


For The Band

by anne_belle



Category: The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gale - Freeform, Gen, Peeta - Freeform, The Hunger Games AU, everlark, gale hawthorne - Freeform, katniss - Freeform, katniss everdeen - Freeform, peeta mellark - Freeform, the hunger games - Freeform, thg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 22:13:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3463976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anne_belle/pseuds/anne_belle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s really a feeling that you can’t put comparison to. The fleeting feeling in your chest before you walk out onto that stage in front of thousands of screaming fans; it’s an indescribable revelation.</p>
<p>Katniss Everdeen and her band 'The New Romantics' start their tour around the United States this summer. But what they weren't expecting? Their rival band 'The Muse' to be joining them. Peeta Mellark is the most sought after musician in the nation, leading 'The Muse' to become one of the fastest up and coming bands. Will Katniss be able to overcome her irrational hatred for the blonde haired, blue eyed singer? Or will their rivalry cause a rift?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I’m coming at you with a brand new story. I’ve had this idea sitting in the back of my mind for some time now, and I’m excited to officially be able to post it. I hope everyone like this idea, and if you do, stick around. You’re about to be in for a wile ride.

—  
  
“Have you seen this horse shit?” Gale asks, slamming down the magazine onto the table in front of me. My eyes widen, bile threatening to rise in my throat.  
  
“What the fuck?” I say, grabbing it to look at it closer. As my eyes skim the page, I almost don’t believe what I’m reading.  
  
_**“Up and coming band ‘The Muse’ makes record breaking sales this week, passing ‘The New Romantics’ on the charts. Sources say ‘The Muse’s’ new single “Run”, sang by their astounding lead, Peeta Mellark, went platinum today, sending their new single to number 1 on “Today’s Hit Music Radio”.”**_  
  
I stop reading, tossing the magazine onto the floor.  
  
“That’s rubbish.” I hear Gale mutter from across the room. “Total bloody rubbish.” His English accent thickens the angrier he gets. He runs his hands thoroughly through his hair, violently swinging them back down to his sides.  
  
“It’s bullshit,” I say, still trying to fully process what I had just read. My head is pounding against my skull, and I drop my head into my hands.  
  
“Who the hell do they think they are?”  
  
“I don’t know,” I reply, running my hands angrily through my hair. I let out a frustrated sigh, not being able to wrap my mind around things completely. “They totally ripped us off.”  
  
And it’s true. Their new single “Run” is almost exactly the same as one of our more popular songs “Find You” from our new album. “Not to mention they dropped it out of nowhere,” I say, shaking my head. It doesn’t make sense.  
  
How can they get away with this?  
  
“Money.” I scoff at Gales response. “It’s fraud-”  
  
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I lift my head up, looking to where Gale is standing, staring straight at the TV. I almost don’t believe my eyes. Peeta Mellark stand next to a female reporter who’s chatting insistently into the microphone about their band’s newest album. I tune myself out, that is, until I hear something that makes my head whirl.  
  
“I’m here with none other than Peeta Mellark, lead singer of ‘The Muse’.” I listen as the reporter asks multiple questions about their recent success.  
  
“Peeta, can you tell me more about your new tour?”  
  
What?  
  
I turn to Gale and I find him just as stunned as me. “Are you actually fucking kidding me right now?” I throw my hands up in the air, making a mock surrender. “There’s no fucking way. No fucking way.”  
  
We just signed for a summer tour around the various cities across the United States.  
  
“If I’m right, I think we will be joining “The New Romantics” for their tour as well. I’ve been told we will play back to back shows, starting in Los Angeles next weekend as we kick off our first tour of the summer.” I stare at the television, speechless.  
  
“You motherfucker.” I can’t help my vulgerness; I’m thoroughly pissed off.  
  
“Are you seeing this?” I ask Gale. He’s just standing there with his arms crossed.  
  
“No.” He says flatly. “No. We’re not doing it. We’re not.” He starts shaking his head repeatedly, walking around to grip the back of the couch that I’m sitting on. I can feel him shaking from behind me. “Absolutely not.” He says again, spitting at the tv.  
  
“How is it that we didn’t know about this?” I ask, turning and standing to face him. “How in the hell did we not know about this?”  
  
“I don’t know,” is his only reply. His eyes are filled with so much anger that I almost think he might spontaneously combust. “Really, Katniss. Fuck if I know.” I try to keep my anger subsided, turning my attention back to the television.  
  
“Look at that smug bastard.” I say, pointing to the television. “He’s got every female reporter there swooning.” I roll my eyes. Neither of us can even think of what to say next.  
  
“Well, Peeta, I can tell that you are very excited to be along side ‘The New Romantics’. It’s only a matter of time before you all meet, hopefully you’ll start off on a good note.” The reporter, I believe her name is Effie Trinket, smiles widely as she talks to Peeta. “Yes, we are very excited.” He smiles, and at that moment, I lose my composure. The way he smiles, the way he talks. It all makes my blood boil.  
  
No fucking way.  
  
“Gale. We can’t.” I finally say, turning to him. His eyes are closed and he’s running his hands through his hair. “We can’t let them do this. You know why they set this up.” He just shakes his head, keeping it down before looking back at me.  
  
“They’re trying to intimidate us. Take our fans. Steal everything that we have ever worked so hard for.” He says, slamming the remote onto the coffee table. “I won’t let them ruin this for us.”  
  
“The hell you won’t.” I agree, shifting in my seat.  
  
“I’m calling Haymitch.” Gale bites bitterly, walking the length of the room while dialing the number to our manager.  
  
“How in the hell- No…- What the fuck-“ I only hear bits and pieces from the conversations, but from what I can understand, Haymitch didn’t tell us because everything was scheduled so last minute that he hasn’t had the chance. I call bullshit on the whole situation.  
  
Gale continues pacing angrily back and forth while listening to Haymitch argue with him on the phone. I watch as he continuously runs his hand through his mussy hair, pulling slightly every now and again. His face flushes red, and the phone call is officially over. Gale stands there silent, staring at the wall behind me. I try to get his attention by standing and waving my hands in front of me.  
  
“Well?” His eyes meet mine. “What happens now?”  
  
“You should probably sit down for this,” he explains, gesturing for me to sit back down beside him. “We’re proceeding with the tour.” I try to maintain my composure the best I can without completely losing my mind. “Haymitch said that we’re moving forward with the tour, and that we need to be open minded and consider how good this could be for us. He told me that this tour could either make us, or break us, and that not going all together could ruin our career.”  
  
“Ruin our career, Gale? What’s going to ruin our career is being ousted by those assholes! And I won’t stand for it, I won’t! I won’t have my entire reputation thrown down the drain just so those fuckers can poke around and make us look like miserable fools for the entire tour. I won’t do it.” I’m out of breath by the time I’ve finished my rant, and the look on Gale’s face tells me that he readily agrees with me.  
  
“I know, Katniss, I know. Just…let’s just do it, okay? I promise, we are going to make the most of this, just don’t stress the small stuff. Let’s just do what we do, and stick to it,” he says, reaching over and lightly shaking my shoulder playfully. “Remember what we agreed on when we first started this whole thing? You said, ‘let’s just be ourselves and have fun.’ Remember that?”  
  
“Yeah, I remember.” I snub him, sticking my nose up at him using my own words against me. I sigh in frustration, dropping my head into my hands. “I just can’t believe that this is actually happening.”  
  
“Katniss, it’s going to be alright,” Gale mutters, gingerly rubbing small circles on my back. He stops after a few seconds and I feel the couch dip and he goes to stand. I lift my head back up and watch as he holds out his hand for me to take, pulling to stand.  
  
“We have a job to do tonight.” I raise my eyebrows, narrowing my eyes. “You up for some reconnaissance?” he asks, tilting his head towards the television, where they’re highlighting some past ‘The Muse’ events, and promoting their concert for tonight. “You want to go see what they’re really like?” A knowing smirk crosses his lips and I find myself mimicking it.  
  
“Yeah, I’m in.”  
—  
  
‘The Muse’ isn’t playing at a large venue tonight, but rather an up scale night club just a few blocks down from our studio in Las Angeles. They’ve been trying to keep it calm these last few weeks leading up to the tour, apparently, playing at smaller venue’s rather than their usual concerts normally held in stadiums.  
  
Gale, Rory, and myself change into “club attire," trying to make ourselves look as inconspicuous as possible. It’ll be a difficult task, considering our faces are plastered on the front of almost every magazine out right now, but we somehow manage to look somewhat normal. Gale and Rory both wear beanies paired with sunglasses, but I don’t wear anything to hide myself, hoping that keeping my hair down and framing my face will allow for at least a little bit of privacy.  
  
Our body guard Mitchell escorts us to the door and we flash our ID’s quickly before stepping into the darkened club. One of the guards inside stops us before we get through the rest of the way. “Tickets,” he grunts, holding out his hand. Gale and Rory drop their sunglasses for a second before I step around them. “Oh, okay, right this way.”  
  
The scene thrives with music, loud and pulsating, reverberating throughout my entire body. I can feel the beat from my head, to the tips of my toes as my inner musician takes me over. A nervous energy courses through my body when I see them on stage, their show almost coming to an end.  
  
I scan the room, surveying the crowd carefully. I roll my eyes as I see a few people here and there wearing band tee’s with ‘The Muse’ plastered across the front.  
  
Mitchell waves for us to follow him, and we comply, weaving through the crowd as we push past person after person. I make it a statement to keep my head down towards the ground, being careful not to make eye contact with anyone. The last thing we need is to be recognized before we’ve even gotten the chance to do what we came here to do.  
  
We stop short of the gate at the foot of the stage, but we’re far enough away that we can be hidden by the shadows of the people that surround us. I turn to Gale and he gives me a nod, his lips turning upward into a smile, to which I return.  
  
I can feel the nervous energy that fills the room as everyone anxiously awaits them to play their last song. I swallow hard and try to keep my nerves at bay, scanning my eyes quickly across the stage in each for their band. My eyes fall on Finnick Odair, the bands guitarist, who’s near the back of the stage lazily stringing his guitar. He rolls his wrists a few times, bending them back and forth in order to loosen them up, I’m sure.  
  
They all look exhausted at this point. Sweat gleaming on their faces, their t-shirts hugging their sweaty bodies as their chests heave with each breath that they take. Rye Mellark, their drummer, and Peeta’s brother, steps out from behind the stage and sits behind the drum set placed dead center in the back.  
  
And that’s when my eyes finally land on Peeta, who’s striding from off the side of the stage to stand in front of the mic. I narrow my eyes and strain my eyes to listen to the words eliciting form his lips.  
  
“Hey guys,” he exhales breathily before taking another deep breath, slipping the mic from the stand and holding it,  and walking around as he addresses the crowd. “Thank you all for coming out tonight, we really appreciate it.” The audience around us yells their appreciation, causing a smug expression to rouse upon his face. I have to keep from biting down on my lip too hard, dissatisfaction, and annoyance seeping through me.  
  
“We’re all really excited to get to spend our last nights in LA here with you all, and we know that without you, none of this would have even been possible.” The crowd cheers their affection around me, but I have to force myself to swallow the bile rising in my throat. He’s just as fake as the rest of them.  
  
“Okay, well, we won’t make you wait any longer. Here’s ‘I Feel Alive’.”  
  
I shift anxiously on my feet as I watch him grip his jean jacket and tighten it against him, causing the low slung white t-shirt to ride up and expose his stomach for a split second. I clench my teeth as I feel the betraying flutter deep beneath my core. I fucking hate him.  
  
The sound of Finnick's guitar resonates around the room, and I look over at him and notice the way his eyes are screwed to the crowd, fixated on a point in the distance; obviously heavy in focus. The steady beats of the drums reveal Rye, plastered to his seat as the rhythm continues building up. I turn to look at Gale one last time, standing with his arms crossed defensively against his chest, peering up at the stage from the rim of his sunglasses. I turn back just in time to see Peeta grab the mic stand, his mouth opening as his voice carries throughout the room.  
  
_“We’re all alone watching shadows on the ceiling,”_  
_“I’ve gone numb but I can’t forget the feeling’,”_  
_“And I don’t even know if I can close my eyes,”_  
_“Don’t wanna sleep ‘cause I’m wide awake and dreaming’,”_  
_“Hold me close and catch your breath now,”_  
_“I promise not to leave this bed yet,”_  
  
The crowd seems to move in a similar sense of rhythm, their bodies shifting and bumping against me in the process. The music picks up now, suddenly changing into a more upbeat, faster tempo as all the attention is directed to Rye as he continues the steady build up to the chorus. Peeta grabs the mic and disconnects it from the stand, taking a few steps back and throwing his head back before pointing at the crown in earnest.  
  
_“‘Cause I feel alive!”_ The music drops and he begins jumping in place. _“I feel alive!”_ This is when Finnick joins in, adding a few “oh’s” along with Peeta. _“I finally feel alive…”_ The music slows a bit now, and Peeta heaves a heavy breath before stopping at the front of the stage again.  
  
_“I’m lying here whisperin’ the sweetest nothing,”_  
_“I feel your heart beating faster than you’re breathing,”_  
_“And I don’t even know if I can close my eyes,”_  
_“Don’t wanna sleep ‘cause I’m wide awake and dreaming’,”_  
_“Hold me close and catch your breath now,”_  
_“I promise not to leave this bed yet,”_  
  
_“‘Cause I feel alive!” (Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh)_  
_“I feel alive!” (Oh oh oh oh oh oh)_  
_“I finally feel alive!”_  
  
Peeta’s eyes begin skimming the crowd, a wide smile playing across his lips as he watches their fans jump around and wave. But just as his preying eyes begin their pass over me,  my breathe hitches in my throat as our eyes lock. I curse under my breath and look away, sure of myself that I just ruined this entire night for us. I have keep my eyes towards the ground as the song continues.  
  
“There’s a time and a place for you to say what’s next,”  
“So tell me all of the things you dream but never did,”  
“There’s a time and a place for you to hold your breath,”  
“So tell me all of the things you thought but never said,”  
  
His voice cuts off again, the music getting progressively faster against, and I can tell the song is about to come to a close. I dare a chance back up at him and find his eyes still locked onto mine. His lips lift up into a half grin, smirking down at me as if he’s some superior being. A growing anger begins rising in my belly as his face contorts and shifts into a wider, more knowing smirk, throwing a wink at me. I growl in frustration as he revels in his glory, keeping his eyes trained on mine for the duration of the song. I don’t not look away because I can’t, but because I won’t. I won’t let him win, no, I can’t allow him such satisfaction.  
  
_“‘Cause I feel alive,”_  
_“I feel alive!”_  
_“‘Cause I feel alive,” (Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh)_  
_“I feel alive,” (oh oh oh oh oh oh oh)_  
_“I finally feel alive!”_  
_“I finally feel alive.”_  
  
I feel a twinge of irritation, my head pounding. My heart is practically beating out of my chest as I struggle to catch my breath. I finally tear my eyes away from Peeta’s stare and grab Gale’s arm, pulling his head down to mine as to whisper in his ear. “We need to go- now.” His eyes widen slightly before nodding his head, turning to Rory to get his attention.  
  
The three of us begin weaving our way through the crowd, and towards the doors when Peeta’s voice reaches my ears, echoing throughout the room.  
  
“Hey everyone, thank you all so much for coming out tonight. We are so grateful for all of your support throughout this past year, and we know we wouldn’t have been able to do this without you.” I turn around and find his eyes searching the room until they finally land on mine again. I turn on my heels and start pushing Gale ahead of me.  
  
“As you all know, we’re going on to Ultra Tour this summer, starting next week here in LA. We’re going to be joining The New Romantics-” he pauses and I pull Gale to a stop, curling my fingers into his t-shirt and turn around, connecting eyes with Peeta up on the stage. “-who just so happen to be here tonight.” You can hear the audience give a collective gasp, and all of the sudden, the spotlight is on us.  
  
Mitchell is immediately at our sides before people get a chance to swarm us, and I have to duck my head and keep it down, still grasping Gale’s shirt in order not to get left behind. The crowd’s yells and noise still rattles my brain as we exit the main room, and I lift my head to find us in a too brightly lit back room, band gear and empty instrument cases strewn across the floor.  
  
“Where are we? Why aren’t we leaving?” I ask, turning to face Mitchell. “We need to get out of here, or else we’ll never get to leave without being swarmed.”  
  
“Relax, Katniss, you all can’t leave yet. It’s too hectic out there. I just got word from Haymitch that you all need to stay back here until further notice. He’ll get back to me when you’re allowed to leave,” he says calmly, peeking his head out the door before turning back to face us, keeping his back against it. “But until then, you are to remain in here for the duration of the concert. It shouldn’t be long, they’re wrapping up now.”  
  
“And Mellark? Is he going to be reprimanded for almost causing a scene out there?” I ask angrily, waving my arms out in front of me. “Something could have gone seriously wrong, Mitchell.”  
  
“Katniss, that’s not our call to make. We can’t control what happens to them.” I roll my eyes and let out a frustrated sigh, crossing my arms defensively against my chest.  
  
The longer we sit and wait, the longer my head pounds. The flourescant lights in here are far too bright for comfort, and I can feel the migraine already coming along. But as if this night couldn’t get any worse, Peeta, followed by Finnick and Rye, stroll into the room, seemingly unscathed by their little tryst.  
  
My face is set into a permanent scowl as I watch the cocky bastard stroll in with that god damn smirk plastered across his lips, a straw poking out between his teeth. His eyes automatically zero in on mine as they approach us, his smug grin wider than I’ve ever seen.  
  
“Ah, so nice of you to join us,” Peeta mutters, coming to stand directly in front of me. “I’m don’t suppose you came for the refreshments,” he leers at us for a few moments, raising his eyebrows in an amused fashion. Finnick approaches next, his eyes raking up and down my body.  
  
“Katniss Everdeen, well if it isn’t a pleasure to finally meet you.” He reaches down and grabs my hand, placing a wet kiss on my palm. I jerk my hand away, and his eyes lights up with an alluring light.  
  
“Don’t touch me,” I say through gritted teeth, annunciating every word. I stare daggers directly into him, wishing so badly I could destroy that impenetrable sultry persona. “What do you want?”  
  
“I think the better question is, what do you want?” Peeta asks and my eyes cut to him. “You’re the ones who showed up here, after all.” I cross my arm defensively against my chest, my eyes tracing a bead of sweat falling  down his temple. “Pretty devious.”  
  
“If anything, you’re the duplicable ones,” Gale retorts, shifting on his feet beside me. “Scheduling this tour with us last minute, not even giving us a chance to say no?”  
  
Peeta’s eyebrows raise in amusement. “Oh Gale, if it were only that simple.” His voice is smooth, yet cunning. “We were just doing what we were told.”  
  
“Thats a load of bullshit and we know it!” I can no longer contain myself, screaming, my voice loud and shrill, to even my own ears. “Don’t stand here and lie to our faces.” My heart is racing as I keep my eyes trained on Peeta’s, trying to read him. But all I find is a hollow shell of a person. No better than the rest of them.  
  
“Woah there, Kat. Getting a little feisty, eh?” The way his eyes cut through me makes my skin crawl, and I can feel the bile rising in my throat at the pet name he’s given me. “Relax.”  
  
“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” I spit, stepping forward, leaving little space between us. The air is tight and thick with tension, leaving only a few inches separating our bodies. The smirk doesn’t fall from his face, doesn’t even falter. But I keep my eyes locked with his, never backing down.  I will win this. I will not let him bring me down.  
  
Peeta raises his hands in mock defense, his fingers brushing my chest in the process. My blood boils but I don’t move my gaze away, a look so vile with hatred you would think looks could kill. I narrow my eyes as his waver with something I can’t quite place, but just as soon, his face sets back in that smug grin he was sporting before.  
  
“I suppose we’ll leave you be,” he mumbles, pulling his straw from between his teeth, twirling it around with his fingers. “For now.” His eyes finally flit form mine to Gales, and I feel him tense beside me, but never breaking composure. I was sure he would have lost it a while ago.  
  
“It’s been a pleasure meeting you.” His eyes lock with mine once again, and before I have the chance to realize what’s happening, he’s lifting my hand to his mouth, placing a firm, steady kiss upon my palm before swiftly dropping it down to my side. I’m embarrassed by the way my skin flushes a deep crimson, giving Peeta another perfect opportunity to give me that flashy smirk.  
  
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I mutter, wiping the back of my hand against my black skinny jeans. I chance a glance around the room, and to my utter mortification, find everyone’s eyes on me.  
  
“I’m hurt,” Peeta retorts, popping the straw back into his mouth and clenching his jaw. “You would think you would have a bit less resilience towards me, considering we are going to be spending the entire summer together.” I have to bit my tongue to avoid screaming vicious obscenities at him.  
  
“Bite me,” I snap, turning on my heels to walk out of the room. But I don’t miss the way I feel his body’s proximity as he whispers “Careful, Kitty.” Nor do I miss the way his hot breath tickles my neck as I hear his voice lilt in an alluring purr. My eyes widen if horrification, and I whip around, raising my arm with every intent to slap him, when Gale’s fingers wrap around my wrist.  
  
“That’s enough of that,” he grits, pulling my back flush against his front, holding me back. “Let’s get out of here.” My eyes search the room, seeking Peeta as my eyes fall on Finnick, who seems to have enjoyed this entire altercation, with his lip between his teeth, biting back laughter.  
  
My eyes finally land on Peeta, who’s now at the back of the room, arms crossed against his chest as he watches me being practically dragged from the room. Mitchell seems to have appeared suddenly, holding the door open before I finally break eye contact with Peeta, stumbling through the doorway and out of the building.  
  
My eyes are immediately seized by the flashing lights and pallid screams of the nasty men scouting the area. I have to reach out and grab the back of Gale’s shirt in order to not be left behind, keeping my face to the ground as we make our way to the car. Mitchell comes back to my side, escorting me around the side of the car and opening the door, allowing me to slide in, finally protected from the swirling whirlwind of chaos outside.  
  
—  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So, if you can’t already tell, this is a brand new story. I’ve had this idea sitting in the back of my mind for a while, and I have just been really itching to write it. And if you couldn’t already tell, it’s a rivalry between Katniss’ band, and Peeta’s band. I’m really excited to get this going, and I really hope you all like it.
> 
> Updated for this may be a little slower, considering this is a new start up story, but don’t worry, I won’t go longer than a month, two weeks tops, before uploading.
> 
> If you leave a review, please tell me if you enjoyed it. I’ve worked really had on this and have spent a long time thinking about how to write it.
> 
> If you need any updates or anything on this story, or any of my stories, and need to contact me, my Tumblr is catching-dandelions.


	2. The New Romantics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> N/A: Hey all, here’s chapter 2. I hope you all are liking this story, because I’m really excited about it. I’ve gotten some pretty good feedback on here, Ao3, and Tumblr, so I’m really excited about how this is coming along. You can follow me on Tumblr at catching-dandelions for more updates and news regarding myself, and my stories, if you would like.

“No, you have to play this cord…like this—“ I take the guitar from Gale and set it in my lap, running my fingers along the six strings. “This—“ I say, moving along and stringing the G chord, “—is what you want for the sound that we’re looking for.” I hand him back the guitar and he slings the strap around his shoulders. “Other than that, it’ll sound out of place and- are you even paying attention to me?” I ask, placing my hands agitatedly on my hips. I follow his stare and turn around, facing the television, and catch what he’s looking at.

Effie Trinket, the same reporter from last night, with her trill voice and lavish features, prattles on about last nights occurring events. “Last night sure was interesting, to say the least, as ‘The Muse’ held their last concert before their tour boots up next week,” she begins, the pace of her words picking up significantly. “But what they didn’t expect? A surprise visit from none other than ‘The New Romantics’. We can all assume that this was no ordinary visit to enjoy the music, but rather a trist to placate their relationship.” I roll my eyes and let out a puff of air before crossing my arms against my chest as the woman carries on with her story.

“There seemed to be a lot of drama that wasn’t caught on camera that took place after Peeta Mellark called ‘The New Romantics’ out in the crowd. After being swiftly whisked away, Katniss Everdeen, lead singer of ‘The New Romantics’, followed by her band mates, were securely placed backstage, where they stayed for over an hour until the building cleared out. There are no reports of what went on inside during that time, but if it’s any indication on how their altercation went, we have video footage of said bands leaving said club last night.”

Effie Trinket’s face disappears from the screen, replaced with, suddenly, myself, angrily trailing behind Gale with my head towards the ground and my hand outstretched towards the camera as to ward off their unwanted broadcast. I watch myself shoved into the backseat of the black Sedan before the angle switches back to the door, where Peeta Mellark exits seemingly unscathed by the entire situation. His brother, Rye, followed by Finnick Odair all wear the same matching expressions as they smoothly make their way to their designated car. Peeta wears a smug grin as one of the reporters begins yelling at him-

“Peeta! Peeta Mellark! Tell us what happened! What is your involvement with Katniss Everdeen, Peeta? Tell us what happened!”

Peeta slowly lifts his hand to his mouth and removes the black, chewed up straw from his mouth before peering at the reporter from under his sunglasses, the undeniable smirk on his face broadening as he opens the door to the car, muttering a slew of words with his full drawl while leaning against the black, metal door.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

The television shuts off, and I turn around and find Gales eyes already trained on mine. “I would highly advise that you just completely ignore every word that comes out of his mouth. He’s just seeking attention,” he mutters, securing the guitar back around his shoulders. “Now, where were we?” he asks, a playful smile rising on his lips, causing me to shadow his features.

“Right,” I mumble, shaking the nerves and minor irrational irritation from my body. “The song.”

—

It’s really a feeling that you can’t put comparison to. The fleeting feeling in your chest before you walk out onto that stage in front of thousands of screaming fans; it’s an indescribable revelation.

Although it’s only a little past noon, and the sun is still set high in the California sky, the stage lights shimmer and shine brightly as the hang descended from the rafters above the stage. Peeking from behind the stage, I can just make out the crowds trickling in from all entrances. It’s a pretty good set up, although there’s a lot more security here due to the openness of the terrain, being it’s a festival. And the first one of the tour, to be exact.

The heat of the day is unrelenting, and I find myself making frequent stops at the water table backstage. I feel someone’s shoulder bump into mine and look up to find Gale staring down at me, wielding an anxious smile, and undeniable nervous demeanor.

“You nervous?” he asks, picking up a cup of ice water and chugging it down, only to squint his eyes and shake his head when he discovers he has given himself a brain freeze. I laugh at his blatant stupidity and he shoves my arm playfully. “It’s not funny!”

“I think it’s hilarious. Made me at least forget that I’m about to vomit everywhere,” I add, and he blanches.

“Well, just don’t throw up on me,” he says.

“Who’s throwing up on who?” I turn around to find Rory walking towards us with raised eyebrows and a confused look on his face. “Better not be throwing up one me.”

Gale chuckles deeply and pats his brother on the back. “Oh don’t you worry, Katniss is a professional. There will be no barfing as long as I have a say in it.” I roll my eyes and take another drink of water as I watch a bead of sweat roll down Gale’s forehead. I casually reach out and swipe it away with the back of my hand, and Rory makes a disgusted face. I’m sure he’s about to make a remark before Gale speaks up.

“Come on, we’ve got to get to rehearsal before Haymitch has a heart attack,” he says smoothly, patting my back before pushing me ahead of him.

“If he doesn’t pass out drunk first,” I add, and a smirk rises on his lips.

‘That too,” he smiles. “Come on, let’s go.”

Sound check has a whole stage in and of itself. It’s on the opposite side of the the fairgrounds, hidden behind a vast amount of palm trees that tower above. It’s only about a twenty minute walk from the main stage, but with more and more people arriving, Mitchell decided to escort us around the outside of the grounds in order to avoid any back up.

“Ah, there you kids are,” Haymitch announces as we arrive. He wipes a layer of sweat from his forehead and set down his drink, clapping his hands together once. “Alright, Katniss, we’ve got the mic all set up for you, all you have to do it test it a couple of times,” he motions to the mic at the front of the stage. “I’ll be with these two for tuning and warm up. Once you’re done, just hang tight.” I nod my head and walk up to the mic.

It’s a little comical when I think about it, the way I start singing, when all the while we’re all alone with nobody to broadcast ourselves to. But I get a sense of serenity, and it’s calming to be allowed even just a few minutes of allotted alone time before we get thrust into the hasty, crazy actions of the day.

I go through the motions; from testing my voice levels, to performing my straining, but necessary voice exercises that I learned in my lessons. I move up the scale, and back down, closing my eyes as I try to focus on the sound I need. And when I know I’ve got my vocal chords warmed up, I turn and give Haymitch a thumbs up, signaling that we can proceed with the sound check.  
—

The ball of nerves at the bottom of my stomach doesn’t go away.

I’ve never been this nervous in the entirety of my career. I’ve always been able to handle myself with seemingly no problems. But today, however, my body seems to be taking a toll on itself, and my constant state of anxiety doesn’t let up.

I seem to be running on anxious fumes at this point, having probably rubbed holes in the soles of my shoes by the mount of distance I’ve paced back and forth this afternoon. I can’t put my finger on why I’m so shaky, and nervous. I keep telling myself that it’s just because of it being the first festival of the tour, but deep down, I know there’s something else.

And the white hot heat of the day doesn’t do anything to quell my aching body, sending streams of sweat down my back, causing my tight t-shirt to cling to my body.

I raise my arms up and attempt my breathing exercises to try and calm myself down. Breathing in, I raise my arms high above my head, clasping my hands together. This may look ridiculous to a bystander, but this exercise always does wonders on my ever thriving nerves. Exhaling, I slowly lower my arms to my sides, closing my eyes and repeating my ministrations three, four more time before I’m promptly interrupted.

“Nervous, Everdeen?” The voice behind me send icy chills down my spine, despite the Los Angeles heat beating down upon me. “You should be.”

Slowly turning myself around, my grey eyes meet blue. Peeta Mellark stands closer than I anticipated, his head slightly cocked to the side as his lips curl up into that disgusting smirk, his too white teeth flashing a dazzling smile. His eyebrows are raised in amusement as he looks me up and down, head to toe, his eyes greedily raking over my body. His attempt to intimidate me does nothing, and we size each other up. He’s like a hunter stalking his prey; except he’s awfully mistaken. I’m not the prey.

“Mellark,” I retort, trying not to let him see that I’m visibly shaking; furious. “And no, we’re not nervous.”

“Such a shame—” he quirks, taking a step closer to me. My body voluntarily shudders and I curse myself under my breath, taking a quick step back. “—You’d think you would learn by now, huh?”

“Learn what?” I ask, crossing my arms defensively over my chest. “That you’re a dick? Sorry,” I begin, sticking my hand up in front of me, my palm resting flat against his hard chest, keeping him from stepping any closer. “I already know.” The light in his eyes diminishes and they grow dark, staring down at me with such intensity that the tension between our bodies couldn’t be any thicker.

“Well, you’re a piece of work, aren’t you?” His voice lilts in a laugh, and the heat coursing through my veins causes me to shove him forward away from me. He stumbles back a couple of steps, but never loses his composure, his face never falling. People are staring now, and I can feel my heart thumping erratically out of my chest as I realize how publicly I’ve made a fool of myself.

My chest is heaving, and I’m trying to catch my breath when I hear a gruff voice angrily call me. “Everdeen.” I turn my head and watch as Haymitch stalks towards me, an irritated expression written across his face. As he nears me, he grabs my upper arm in his rough hand and begins pulling me off of the back of the stage, and towards our trailer. He’s pushing me to walk ahead of him, and I cringe when he roughly shoves me up the trailer steps, and slams the door behind him.

“Are you out of your mind?” he nearly screams, grabbing the wall for balance. My head is spinning, and I don’t think it’s from the heat this time. “Are you trying to get yourself kicked out of here?” It’s a fair question, but it only causes me to feel anger.

“Did you not see what he was doing to me? He—“

“I don’t give a damn who did what. The fact of the matter is, you openly shoved him in front of the other bands and staff. Are you trying to give yourself a bad name?” His voice is rough, and I feel shame beginning to flood my body.

“No, but—“

“Don’t interrupt me,” he demands, taking a step closer. Aggravation is clearly etched into his normally drunken features. “You are going to listen, and you are going to listen good.” I nod my head slowly and look down at my shoes. “You are going to behave, do you hear me? You are going to behave, and you are going to put whatever the hell problems you have with Mellark behind you. I don’t care how much he gets under your skin. When you are in public, you aren’t only representing yourself, you’re representing your band, and myself. And I won’t stand for your stubborn, hard headed, and immature behavior. Do you understand me?” I shake my head reluctantly; I don’t see that I have much of a choice.

“Look, kid. I’m not trying to be crude or anything, but you need to learn when, and when not to behave like a complete fool,” he mutters, taking a deep breath. “So just…try and get along with him, alright? At the very least, keep up appearances in public.”

I grit my teeth and crinkle my brows. “What if I can’t?”

“Then you should embrace the probability of your imminent dismissal from this tour, and consider you and your band through.” He’s not messing around anymore; I know he’s serious. If I can’t learn to behave, he’s going to have me forcible removed.

So I nod my head. “Okay, I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask—“ he says, reaching out and patting me firmly on the shoulder. “—Now get out there kiddo, you’ve got a show to play.”  
—

“You ready?” Gale asks, walking to stand behind me, rubbing my shoulders with his strong, callused hands. The guitar strung across his chest presses into my back as he drags his hands down both my arms, spinning me around to face him. “You can do it. It’s no different from any other concert.”

“But it’s our first festival, Gale. We have to make a good impression or—“

“Or…? Katniss, all of those people out there?—“ he holds his hand towards the front of the stage, and although we are obstructed from the crowds view, their screams can still be heard from just a few feet away. “—aren’t only here for all of the other bands. They’re here for us, too. So take a deep breath, close your eyes, and relax. You’re going to do perfect.” I smile at his genuine friendliness, and lean into his hands that are still holding my arms.

“What would I do without you?” I ask, smiling up at him.

“Faint, probably.” I laugh, because his hold on me has tightened significantly, and he’s right. I would probably pass out if it weren’t for him supporting me. “And—“ he’s cut off suddenly by the crowds intense screams, and I know that that means that ‘The Muse’s’ show has just ended. I turn my head just in time to catch the light reflecting off of Finnick’s guitar as he walks towards us.

“Good luck out there,” he says with a smile, a hint of smugness written across his face as he lifts his eyebrows. “You’ll need it.” He doesn’t give me a second glance as he walks past me, my head turning as he walks away.

As I turn back around, I catch Peeta’s watchful eye as he walks off the stage, his dark burgundy t-shirt clinging to his slick with sweat body. He pushes the already rolled up sleeves even further up his arms, and my eyes deftly trail the heavily defined sinews of his muscles. I ball up my fists once I realize I’ve been staring, and it’s only worse when our eyes meet, his knowing smirk wider than ever. One of his eyebrows quirk as he approaches me, not so gently shoving past me, his shoulder hitting mine.

It takes all of my willpower not to slap him.

“Good luck,” he mutters, not even bothering to turn around and meet my hard stare as he walks away, disappearing behind the wall that separates the front of the stage and where I’m standing. I can feel my body trembling with hot frustration and I have to squeeze my eyes shut and bite my lip to keep from screaming out.

I feel a hand on my shoulder suddenly, and I turn around and meet Gale’s eyes. “Hey—“ he says, squeezing my shoulder reassuringly. “—Don’t sweat it. Although I’m happy you didn’t try and slap him this time—prick.” I laugh and relax significantly.

“No, don’t worry, Haymitch gave me a pretty stern warning. And I’m not surprised; I’ve been acting childish and erratic lately. I just— he just get’s under my skin,” I huff, running my hands through my loose curls.

“Don’t worry about it. If we’re lucky, on and off the stage is the only interaction you’re ever going to have to have with him, okay?” He smiles down at me and I can’t help but smile back. He leans down and presses his lips to the top of my head before patting my back and pushing me ahead of him. “Now come on, we have a show to perform.”

I walk ahead of him, and Rory is already on the stage sitting behind the set of drums. Gale walks over to say something to him, and I take a deep breath before stepping out onto the stage. I put on my winning smile and wave to the crowd as I walk to center stage, picking up the microphone from the stand and removing it so I can have the freedom to walk around as I talk.

“Hey everyone,” I begin, my mouth twitching up in a nervous smile. I survey the crowd carefully; there can’t be any less than ten thousand people. “I’m Katniss Everdeen, and we are The New Romantics. I just wanted to thank everyone for coming out today, we appreciate it so much, and it’s remarkable to be able to stand on this stage and perform for you,” the crowds cheers roar in my ears; it’s almost deafening as it echoes through my earpiece. “So with that being said, enjoy the show.”

We always start our shows out the same way— our first single ‘The New Romantics’ is what we always open with, and what we have been doing so for a couple of years now. I grab the mic in both my hands before walking a circle, quickly glancing past me as to make sure Gale and Rory are ready. And when I’m sure they are, I stop center stage and begin the song we—along with the crowd— know so well.

We're all bored, we're all so tired of everything  
We wait for trains that just aren't coming  
We show off our different scarlet letters  
Trust me, mine is better

We're so young but we're on the road to ruin  
We play dumb but we know exactly what we're doing  
We cry tears of mascara in the bathroom  
Honey, life is just a classroom

'Cause, baby, I could build a castle  
Out of all the bricks they threw at me  
And every day is like a battle  
But every night with us is like a dream

I throw my hands in the air momentarily as Rory increases the rhythm, building a steady beat up to the chorus. I throw my widest smile to the crowd before gripping onto the mic as if it were my life, throwing my head back in excited anticipation as I ready myself to sing the well known chorus.

Baby, we're the new romantics  
Come on, come along with me  
Heart break is the national anthem  
We sing it proudly  
We are too busy dancing  
To get knocked off our feet  
Baby, we're the new romantics  
The best people in life are free

The crowds steady clapping to the beat is what keeps me going, what keeps me from losing my sanity. Their loud screams and cheers are slightly muffled by my ear piece, but I know they’re excited. It’s almost as if I can feel each and every one of their hearts beating out of their chest, as mine feels like it’s going to explode. Pride washes over my entire body, winding it’s way through my blood, as if the crowds screams are what’s pumping through my veins, keeping me breathing.

We're all here, the lights and boys are blinding  
We hang back, it's all in the timing  
It's poker, he can't see it in my face  
But I'm about to play my Ace

We need love, but all we want is danger  
We team up then switch sides like a record changer  
The rumors are terrible and cruel  
But, honey, most of them are true

'Cause, baby, I could build a castle  
Out of all the bricks they threw at me  
And every day is like a battle  
But every night with us is like a dream

It’s nearing the end of the song and I can feel my body already giving out from exhaustion; and this is only the first song. The people in the audience begin singing along with me, which is one of my favorite parts about being on this stage— it’s as if they’re a part of this whole thing, too.

My whole body is shaking furiously as I move across the stage, back and forth, belting my voice as much as my throat can bear. I make my way over to Gale, quickly as I can, and begin singing to him and Rory, practically screaming at the crowd.

Baby, we're the new romantics  
Come on, come along with me  
Heart break is the national anthem  
We sing it proudly  
We are too busy dancing  
To get knocked off our feet  
Baby, we're the new romantics  
The best people in life are free

So come on, come along with me  
The best people in life are free

Please take my hand and  
Please take me dancing and  
Please leave me stranded,  
It's so romantic

'Cause, baby, I could build a castle  
Out of all the bricks they threw at me  
And every day is like a battle  
But every night with us is like a dream

'Cause, baby, I could build a castle  
Out of all the bricks they threw at me  
And every day is like a battle  
But every night with us is like a dream

I’m jumping up and down now, throwing my arms in the air; I must seem crazy. But this is when I’m finally able to let loose and really be myself, so I give it all I’ve got. I bend forward at the waist before throwing my head back, taking a deep breath, and ending the song.

Baby, we're the new romantics  
Come on, come along with me  
Heart break is the national anthem  
We sing it proudly  
We are too busy dancing  
To get knocked off our feet  
Baby, we're the new romantics  
The best people in life are free

The song ends, and I’m finally able to breathe. The crowds collective cheers is almost deafening, and I can’t keep my smile at bay as my eyes skim the crowd, finding nothing but positive, reassuring faces. My heart is thumping erratically in my chest, and my hand goes up to stop the pressure building in my chest.

I’ve worked so hard over the last few years to get to where I am today. it’s the most amazing feeling when you are on this stage, and you look out into the crowd of thousands of people and they’re all cheering for you. It’s an indescribable feeling. A feeling of pride, joy, and love. I’ve always had such a passion for music— singing in general— and I feel so blessed that I am able to experience all of this in one lifetime. I am really, truly blessed.

I wave to the crowd, the white hot sun beating down on me. I can feel the ringlets of sweat dripping down my face, my already tight clothes clinging to my body. The lights is blinding, and my head is pounding, but it doesn’t stop me. I continue to smile and wave until the crowd settles down, taking one finally deep breath before turning to Gale and queuing him for the next song.

This is going to be a long day.  
—

“Nice job sweetheart!” Haymitch is the first to meet us when we get back to our bus after today’s festival. I look up from the guitar in my lap and set it down next to me. Haymitch walks over to where I’m sitting and gives me a firm pat on the back. “Really, nice job.”

“Thanks,” I smile at him, knowing that we must have really performed well today. “And thank you so much for setting this whole thing up for us. I know I never really thanked you, so thank you. This is incredible.” He shakes his head and smiles.

Gale walks over and sits down next to me and wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into him. “Yeah, Catnip here is trying this new ’being nice’ regimen,” he says, reaching out and playfully tapping my nose. “It’s weird, seeing you actually smile.” I scowl at that, and he throws his head back in laughter. I shove him away from me, crossing my arms over my chest.

“You’re ridiculous,” I mutter, but he only shakes his head and laughs. “I hate you.”

“There she is,” he says with a smile. “Good old Katniss.”

I roll my eyes. “Anyways, Haymitch. Did you say where we were heading next?”

“Yeah, Ventura. This time ‘round you’ll be staying for a week. This one’s gonna be bigger, and there’s a set number of bands performing each day. You all will be rehearsing all week, and then you perform Friday.” I nod my head, and so does Gale. “The hotel is already booked and everything, so once we get there, all you have to do is check in. We’ll meet in the lobby on arrival to set up your schedules and arrange rehearsal times.”

“Okay great,” I say, clasping my hands together in my lap.

“It’s only an hour and a half to Ventura, so I’ll meet you all there. I’ll be behind you all the entire time, so if you need anything, just call.” Haymitch turns and walks off the bus, and I feel Gale exhale beside me.

“What? I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, nothing. This is just really happening, is all. It doesn’t feel real.” I nod my head and take a deep breath.

“Yeah, I get it. It all feels surreal. Like this is all just happening so fast, you know?” He nods. “But at least we get to do this together,” I say, lightly shoving my shoulder against his. He smiles and shoves back.

“Yeah, yeah at least we’re together.” I go to say something when Rory steps onto the bus.

“You two forget about me? Or am I not important enough?” I laugh, but he comes and sits on the other side of me. I wrap both my arms around either of their shoulders and pull them into me, squeezing them.

“Aw Rory, how could i forget about you? Don’t worry, we’re in this together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So so so excited about how this is coming along, you all! I can’t wait until you guys read what I have planned on for chapter 3. I think you all will be very very pleased with it. (Everlark forewarned)


	3. Welcome to Ventura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys, hittin’ you with chapter 3! Now, this chapter is probably going to be my favorite so far, and you’ll find out at the end. I am so overly excited for this story, and I’ve just been itching to make this as perfect as possible, hence the long period between chapters. 
> 
> Also, I’m very sorry for the long wait. I’ve had so much going on in my life and haven’t really had the time to write much. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy this chapter, and don’t forget to, if you’re not already, follow me on here and follow this story to stay updated!

\-----------------------------

“Hey, we’re here,” I shoot up from my spot on the couch, looking around for the source of the voice. I turn around and nearly knock heads with Gale, who meets me with a smile. “We made it.”

I stretch my arms out above my head before getting up and walking over to the bus’ window. It rolls to a stop at the entrance of our hotel, and I watch the guests and residents of the area mull about. This hotel, among a few others, have been reserved for the bands this week. And since it’s a full festival week, Haymitch has forewarned us about being cautious about the extra added security.

A voice echoing over the intercom breaks me away from the window. “Hey everybody, we have just arrived at the Crowne Plaza here on Ventura Beach. Haymitch has given me the strict instruction to make sure that you all pick up this weeks schedules in the lobby at check in, and then meet him where it is listed on your schedule.” I roll my eyes, of course we won’t get any down time. I look to Gale and Rory and know they’re both thinking the same thing.

Walking towards them, I find them both shaking their heads. “Well of course Haymitch is going to be a pain in the arse about this,” Gale grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not like he’ll give up one second of being bladdered, you know he’ll be that way this entire trip.” I shake my head but smile at his coaliquism. He always talks like this when he gets flustered.

“Relax, I’m sure he’s just going to give us a run of the place, and explain the schedule. He’ll be shutting himself off in his room after that, I’m sure of it.”

Rory chimes in, “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to give us a damn bloody minute to ourselves. He’s ‘bout to give us a good show. Sure he’ll be expecting us to be rehearsing ever damn minute.” I roll my eyes.

“Let’s just go, okay? Or else we really won’t hear the end of it,” I say, collecting my duffle bag from the floor. Mitchell meets us at the door of the bus.

“Hey, so I’ll get you guys to the lobby for check in, but I have to head out and check out the venue after that. You all have my number if you need anything.” We all collectively nod our heads and follow him out of the bus.

It’s surprisingly quiet around the entrance to the hotel, not many people around. There are a few security guards mulling about, and a few other strays, but not many people. But I guess it’s because before, I didn’t notice the entrance has been roped off, with a sign saying “Private lot, do not enter unless permitted. Please have your ID’s ready at the door.” I push through the door to the lobby, and am pleasantly surprised to find it mostly empty, save for a few workers walking around.

The three of us pull out our ID’s and hand them over the the woman at the check-in desk, who eyes each of us carefully before gently handing them back to us. The blonde woman reaches under her desk for a moment before plopping down a thick manilla folder atop the service counter. She flashes a bright smile before flipping it open and sifting through the papers.

“Here are your schedules,” she says, handing each of us an individual stack of papers. “The back page has directions to each of your rooms that we have arranged to act as rehearsal studio’s for each band. Please pay close attention to the directions to each exit in case of an emergency.” I nod my head and take the papers, looking at the first agenda for the day.

“We have a rehersal in twenty minutes?” I ask, turning to Gale. “We don’t even get to rest— this is such bullshit,” I grumble.

The receptionist speaks up. “Well, if you need to be somewhere soon, we can have our guards here take your luggage up to your rooms. They’ll bring your room keys back down here after, and once you’re finished, you can come down at pick them back up. No problem.” Gale and I give each other a look.

“Thank you,” he finally says, breaking his eyes away from mine. “That’s very helpful.” I roll my eyes and set my bag down on the ground. “Although, we do have the rest of our luggage on our bus— did you need us to get it?”

“No worries,” the woman says. “We have it under control. Your guard— Mitchell, he gave us permission to retrieve your luggage from the bus.”

“Great, thank you so much.” Gale and Rory both set their bags on the ground, and Gale let’s out a sigh.

"Come on, then, we need to get to rehearsal before Haymitch gets himself all in a tizzy," Gale mutters, swiping his papers from the receptionist. "Plus, the sooner we get there, the sooner we get out. Lord knows we haven't had a proper rest since we started." I nod my head.

"You really think he's going to be in that much of a rush?" I ask once we step into the elevator. 

"Not sure, all I know is that there are limited rehearsal times this week because of all the bands, so he's rushing to get us at least a few hours alone before more arrive." I huff out a breath of air in response.

"It's not that bad I don't guess. It could always be worse." I turn and glare at Rory, who just shrugs his shoulders. "What?"

"You're just...always the optimist," I say.

"At least I'm not like you. You're always so angry, Katniss. Maybe try smiling once in a while, eh?" I both feel and hear Gale chuckle deeply beside me, and turn to scowl at him.

"Yeah, come on Catnip. Turn that scowl upside down."

If looks could kill.

I'm not even able to get out a response before the elevator doors slide open. I feel Gale's hand on my lower back, pushing me ahead of the both of them as we make our way down the multiple, winding hallways, until we've finally reached a set of double doors marked, "PRIVATE REHEARSAL- THE NEW ROMANTICS". 

I push my way through the door, and the first thing my eyes find is Haymitch, his feet up on a chair, and his head slung back as he takes a large swig of what everyone already assumes is his daily intake of toxicity. Once he sets his glass down, our eyes meet, and his lips curl up into a smile that resembles more of a grimace.

"Hey there, sweetheart," he mumbles, standing from his spot and walking over to the three of us. "Now— before you patronize me, I have bad news." My heart leaps into my throat.

"It looks like the hotel has come up short with rooms that they're able to spare as rehearsal studios, so we're going to have to rehearse with a couple of different bands today." I look at Gale suddenly, who's clenching his jaw. Rory seems to react the same.

"Who, Haymitch?" I ask, speaking up. "Who else are we rehearsing with?"

"Well, we get about two hours to ourselves before 'The Muse' joins us. And after that, it'll be a dual rehearsal for the next two hours." 

I bite my lips to the point of bleeding, my anger visibly causing me to shake. "Are you serious, Haymitch?" I ask, balling my hands into fists. "You can't be serious."

"We have to rehearse with those blokes?" Gale asks, crossing his arms against his chest. "Might as well not even fucking practice. We'll never get anything done as long as they're around. And you know that's true."

"No, I don't know that," Haymitch counters, taking another swig of his drink. "And you don't know that, either. And I suggest changing your attitudes now before this all goes to shit. You are all adults, so start fucking acting like it." I look to Gale and watch him swallow hard. None of us are okay with this. "I can't do anything about it, alright? I'm sorry. I just got the call this morning before you arrived, or else you would have gotten a call from me."

"I can't believe this," I huff. Haymitch narrows his eyes at me, pointing his finger.

"If you have a problem with this, Princess, then you can fucking leave. I'm not going to have your sour attitude today. We have a lot to fucking do before they get here, so you better straighten your act, or you're out. Do you hear me?" Im taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor, his usually dry and sarcastic attitude completely gone. 

So I shake my head. "Yes." Although I'm still not happy about it. But I don't have to tell him that.

\--

The first half of rehearsal goes fairly smoothly. My voice only cracked once, and I only got screamed at twice. Apparently, we're a hot mess. And the pressure of performing perfectly this weekend is proving to be taxing on not only my voice, but on my entire body. I can already feel my throat burning, aching for a drink of water.

"Okay, take five, Katniss," Haymitch mutters, running his hands over his face and sitting back in his chair. I throw both Rory and Gale an apologetic look, knowing that we're still behind on time. 

The cool water soothes my burning throat, and I sigh once I've polished off the first bottle. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand before reaching for another bottle when I hear a knock at the door, immidiately turning my head towards the sound.

Rye Mellark is the first to enter the room. All blonde hair and blue eyes, almost remarkably the same as his brothers, only his hair is a dustier shade of blonde. He holds the door open, and next walks in Peeta. I can already feel my throat going dry, the sight of him causing me to roll my eyes on response. But when my eyes actually land on him, I'm surprised to find his usually styled hair in a mess of unruly curls that fall just above his eyes. If the bags under his eyes are any indication, I would say he's had little to no sleep recently. I almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

Finnick enters a few seconds after Peeta, his bronze hair reflecting off the florescent lights. Our eyes meet and his smile broadens, his too white teeth flashing at me. His green eyes glimmer as they hold my gaze.

"Hey boys," Haymitch says, waving them in. "We're just taking a five minute break, so if you all want to go ahead and get set up here, that's okay with me." They comply, and I stand in the corner as Peeta's band arranges their equipment. 

The room, if even at all possible, gets twice as cramped, and I can't help but feel claustrophobic in the situation. We have our sound equipment set up, along with Rory's drums and Gale's guitar. And then Rye has his drums set up along side ours, and it's just made for quite a cramped rehearsal.

Another hour passes before I can't take anymore of it. Since we are being so rushed, we switch in and out of rehearsing. Which means that all of us are standing inches from each other. And each time Peeta pushes his shoulder against mine, my blood boils. 

It happens this last time, and I snap. He stumbles into me after tripping over a cord, and sends me into a wall. I grab my shoulder and grimace, fighting back to urge to cry by blinking back my tears.

“Can you please fucking watch where you’re going?” I scream, shouting at him from a few feet away. 

"What?" He asks, kicking the cord out of the way. I look around and notice all eyes on me.

“Can you do anything right? I mean— all you have to do is fucking—”

"Katniss!" My head shoots to Haymitch, who's now standing from his chair across the room, his arms crossed angrily against his chest. "Get out," he orders, and I'm rendered speechless and he stands suddenly, his finger pointing towards the door. "I want you out until you can learn to control your atrocious behavior." 

My eyes go wide, and I watch as a wide grin splays across Peeta's face.

"You too, Mellark," Haymitch orders. "I was told to help you rehearse. I didn't sign up for a fucking babysitting detail." Peeta looks to me, but I look away, crossing my arms over my chest.

He walks ahead of me until he steps out the door. I’m about to walk out as well when Haymitch grabs my arm and forces me to a stop. “Do you not at all remember what I just told you before rehearsal? You behave, or you’re out. Do you understand me?” I nod my head once, the fire in my blood slowly dying down. “No— you wait outside this room until rehearsal is over. The both of you are quite frankly out of terms, so until you can straighten things out, don’t even think about walking back into this room.” I yank myself from his grip before walking out and slamming the door.

Peeta stands leaning against the wall a few feet from the door, his arms crossed against his chest. He looks up at me, his tired eyes filled with something unknown to me. “What?” he asks. I walk over to him until our faces are inches apart.

“I really fucking hate you, you know that?” I seethe, curling my fingertips into the fabric of his navy jacket, only to shove him away. “You’ve ruined everything for me.”

“Me?—,” his voice lilts in a laugh, surprisingly, though amusement ceases to cross his prominent features. “— You’ve been nothing but spiteful towards me this entire what— two weeks that we’ve been on tour together?” I try to ignore the way my head pulses as his voice gets seemingly louder. “And I still can’t figure you out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out,” I reply, crossing my arms against my chest. “But it seems as if you’ve got something else to say to me— so just say it.”

“You seem to think that I don’t hate you just as much as you hate me. You come across as a smart girl, no? So I can’t quite grasp the concept of…why?” He steps closer, and I inhale a sharp breath as he comes to stand mere inches from me. He peers down with a hard stare, yet there’s a hint of real questioning in his eyes.

“Why what?” 

“Why do you hate me, Katniss?” I’m taken aback by his bluntness. 

“I just—“

He cuts me off. “You see, here’s where you’ve made your mistake—” he starts, and I have half a mind to storm away right now and avoid being made a fool of. But I don’t. Instead, I stand, frozen, unable to force my limbs to move.

“You are constantly throwing it in my face— that you hate me. And you must, for the amount that you tell me. And you may feel that, deep, deep down inside somewhere, but I may just know you a little bit more than you know yourself.” I bite my bottom lip and worry it between my teeth, praying for the strength to keep calm. “There’s a part of you, and though I may not know how large that part may be, that doesn’t hate me. And you really need to find that part soon because… My band is on this tour, whether you like it or not. So deal with it. In whatever manner that may be… Deal with it.”

I don’t know whether it’s from shock, or just utter disbelief, but I’m left speechless. In the back of my mind I want to start screaming, yelling at him that he’s wrong and that he can go fuck himself. And although I want to be okay with the idea of them touring with us, it still disgusts me to no ends.

“You’re disgusting,” I spit, finally building up the courage to speak up. “I didn’t ask for this, you know? I didn’t ask for you to be here. I just wanted to be on tour— but no. You and your band come up and intrude on something that was supposed to be the best summer of my entire life— yet now you’ve ruined it—“

“Ruined it? Katniss, I haven’t done anything to you,” he takes a step closer to me, and I have to take a step back. He towers over me, and I find myself staring up at him as he speaks. “You treat me as if I’ve done something horrible to you. But I haven’t done anything. And I’m not going to stand here and let you yell at me over things that I have no control over.”

“I-“

“Shut up. Let me finish.” I swallow hard, surprised by his sudden outburst. “I had no control over this whatsoever. We were presented with the opportunity to come on this tour, and we gladly accepted. It was a mutual agreement both through the band, and our manager. And something that I, myself, had no control over—“ he stops to take a breath, running his hands through his curls. he throws them down to his sides, and takes a desperate breath. “— but I do have control over how you feel about me.”

“What—“

“Would you stop?” I bite my tongue. “Now, I’m not saying that we necessarily have to like each other, but wouldn’t it be better if we at least got along?” I glare at him. “Okay, maybe not…get along. But pretend to get along? It would make this whole experience a little bit more pleasant, don’t you think?” 

I don’t respond.

“And if you pretend long enough that you like me— who knows, maybe you’ll come around.” I widen my eyes and watch as his face goes from plain, to smug, all in a matter of seconds. He reaches out and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, and I swat his hand away. My blood runs cold as I work up a response, but by the time I open my mouth, he’s pushing past me, his shoulder hitting mine, and walks off down the hall out of view.

\------------------------------------------------------------

The week goes by fairly quickly, with rushed rehearsals in cramped spaces, and barely any time to ourselves. To say that it’s been a hectic week doesn’t even begin to cover it. Between being stuck with ‘The Muse’ for rehearsals, and the other band ‘Echo’, it’s been a roller coaster ride of craziness. 

We just got done performing our show for the day. We were one of the first bands out this afternoon, and once we were finished, were quickly rushed off the stage and out of the reach of the fans. But I refused to be stuck in a hot, stuffy tent with a bunch of other bands, so I snuck out.

“Hey,” I whip around, still holding the flap to the tent open. “Where do you think you’re going?” Rory steps out with me into the hot summer heat. “Alone— might I add.”

“I’m just getting some air, don’t freak out.” I keep walking, but when I turn around, he’s still following close behind. “You don’t have to follow me. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.” I put my fists on my hips and cock my head.

“Don’t care. You shouldn’t be out in this crowd alone. I’m coming with you.” I roll my eyes.

“Fine.” I turn back around and begin walking. The further I walk into the festival grounds, the more compact the crowd seems to get. There are pathways— somewhat, with palm trees that seem to tower above everyone. But for the most part, it’s free range, and people don’t seem to care much for the paths.

I push and weave my way through, looking back only a few times to see if Rory is still following me. He is.

I get a few stares as I push my way through, but many people just leave me be. Although, I do get stopped a few times and asked to get a picture. I gladly accept, walking away quickly once the photo was snapped, as to not draw attention.

I’m finally at the front of the stage— or rather, near the front, when I feel Rory grip my arm. He’s standing close, and I feel his body against my back. “Should we really be out here like this? Exposed?”

“Would you relax? It’s fine. I just want to enjoy some time. You know— see what all the fuss is about.” He let’s go of my arm, though I can still feel him behind me. I choose to ignore the feeling that I’m being babysat.

I wipe the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand when a mop of blonde curls catches my eye from the stage. It’s Peeta, walking around the stage, checking everything out. And I’m surprised to find, once again, that his hair isn’t styled. His curly hair falls messy again, and until recently, I hadn’t even known his hair was curly. He actually looks fairly laid back, which is surprising to say the least. His usually carefully styled hair and outfit is nothing of the sorts. It almost looks as if he actually dressed himself. Or like he just rolled out of bed. And there’s something…cute about the way—

No. I tell myself. Peeta Mellark is not cute. Peeta Mellark is…undeniably cunning, with a charming persona that could cause women everywhere’s pants to fall off.

But not me. Not a chance.

My thoughts are immediately cut off when the rest of his band walks out onto the stage. And it only catches my attention when the crowd begins screaming. There’s a chorus of “Finnick!” And “Peeta!”’s all around me. Shrill, loud screams that are so undeniably teenage girls. I roll my eyes, because this is all ridiculous.

They start of with one of their newer songs, and I try to put myself in the shoes of the people around me. I try to allow myself forget about my own selfish problems, and try and enjoy the music. 

And I’m surprised to find myself actually enjoying the show. The music in and of itself is actually very good, and I can’t believe I’m thinking it. I even catch myself involuntarily moving to the music. My hips move on their own accord, and no matter what, I can’t seem to fight it. This is the first time in a long time that I’ve let myself enjoy something like this.

And somewhere amongst the sea of people in the crowd, Peeta’s eyes meet mine. It’s as if his eyes were already on me, watching me. Because as soon as I look up, our eyes meet. The richness of blue hues in the sky reflects the color of his eyes and for just a moment, I find myself unable to look away.

But then I feel someone’s hand wrap around my wrist, and when I turn my head, I’m met with grey instead of blue. “Rory,” I breathe, thankful it’s not a stranger.

“We have to leave.” And it’s as if it happens in an instant, all eyes are on us.

He’s pulling me away faster than I ever thought possible. I chance a final glance back at the stage, but Peeta’s focused on something else now. 

I let him pull me, quickly, through the crowd. The music is loud, blasting through my ears, though every now and then, I can hear collective gasps of people probably surprised to see us out without a guard. I try and keep my head down, looking up only when I need to, and only again when we reach the trailer. Rory throws the door open, revealing a thoroughly pissed off looking Gale.

“What the hell was that?” he practically screams, pulling me roughly by the arm and swiftly further into the trailer. Rory kicks the door shut with his foot. “Do you have a death wish?”

“I’m fine,” I say, yanking myself from his grip. “Would you relax for five seconds?”

“Are you bloody mad?” he yells, and I wince at the loudness of his voice. “You could have been seriously hurt, Katniss. You have to start being more responsible than this.” I stare at him for a few seconds before defensively crossing my arms agains my chest.

“Are you bloody mad?” I repeat, trying my best to imitate his English drawl. I hear Rory try and stifle a laugh beside me, but I keep my eyes locked on Gale’s, fully intent on irritating him. 

“I’m glad you think this is funny,” he bites, directing his comment towards his brother. “You could have been hurt.”

I roll my eyes. “But we weren’t. I’m fine, see?”

“Yeah,” Rory chimes in. “Relax brother, we’re fine, totally cool.”

“You’re such a pain in my arse. The both of you.” I laugh and lift my shoulders.

“Oh well.”

“Blimey, Katniss! You’re so stubborn it kills me.” 

I can’t help but roll my eyes and launch myself into his arms. “Oh, you know you love me.” I feel him chuckle before releasing me. 

“As much as I love the both of ya, you cause me more grief than anything,” he breathes, and I smile. “Well, come on then, we’ve got to get cleaned up and ready for tonight.”

\-------------------------------------------------------

Haymitch made it perfectly clear that this after party was mandatory. He says it’s for publicity, to get to know more people, getting our name out there. And although I’ve never been one for parties, I find myself migrating into the ballroom. Rounding the corner, I’m met with two security guards who ask to see my ID, so I flash it before walking into the room.

The lights are the first to blind my senses, the brightness, along with the assorted colors are enough to send a migraine my way; it’s inevitable, along with the loud, thrumming music that seems to pulsate through my very own veins. The hotel has really managed to make this feel like a club, though it’s just the stationary ballroom. And even though I’m not usually one for a romp at the club that often, the energy surging throughout the room is enough to make me want to stay.

From the corner of my eye I see a waiter carrying a tray of what looks to be shot glasses, and when I wave him my way, I swipe one of the glasses and quickly down it, not even questioning the contents. As soon as I swallow, the burning in my throat sends tingles through my whole body, causing my to shudder as I set the glass back onto the tray.

If I’m going to be forced into unwanted socialization, I’m going to drink away the misery.

I whip around quickly when I suddenly feel a hand grip my shoulder. “Is Katniss Everdeen drinking?” I scoff and roll my eyes at Rory, and look past his shoulder to watch Gale stroll in behind him. 

“Everdeen! Didn’t know you had it in you.” Gale’s voice rises above the chaotic mess of the music, though it’s still slightly muffled. 

“Shut up—” I scoff, reaching for another shot and throwing it back. “—I can handle myself,” I mutter as I slam the glass down onto the tray.

“Just lookin’ out for ya Kat.” He pats my shoulder before looking past me. “I’ll be back.” I raise my eyebrows questioningly as he pushes past both me and Rory and walks to stand in front of a strikingly beautiful blonde woman.

“Who’s she?” I ask, turning to face Rory. He leans against one of the guard rails against the wall while reaching for a drink as the same man walks past us with the tray. 

“Who, Madge? Gale fancies her. He met her a few days ago after we performed, said she’s been waiting to meet us for a while. She sings for Echo.” I shake my head before turning to get a better look at her. Her blonde hair falls in large curls down her back, and her smile lights up the entire room. She’s gorgeous.

“She’s beautiful,” I say.

“Yeah, Gale’s ‘bout ready to snog her right here in the middle of the room,” he mumbles, lifting the glass to his lips and swallowing hard. His pupils dilate for a second before returning to normal and meeting my own. 

But something catches my eye a few feet away and I tear my eyes away from Rory and find myself staring into the eyes of Peeta Mellark. His body is leaned against a nearby wall with his arms crossed against his chest, his eyes narrowed. He’s watching me.

I grab Rory by the arm, and when his eyes meet mine, I whisper, “dance with me?” He’s confused, but complies, leading me to the dance floor. We both carelessly snag another shot before ending up with our bodies pressed together. And although I can’t see him, I know Peeta’s watching; I can feel his eyes on me.

Rory and I went to high school together, and not once have I ever though of him more than a friend. But that doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun. And though I don’t know why, and I can’t place a reason as to why I feel this way, the thought of Peeta even looking at me makes my blood boil. So if he’s going to stare at me, he’s going to have something to stare at.

So I let Rory hold my hips while I reach up behind me and wrap my arms around his neck as we sway together to the music. The energy throughout the room has risen tremendously, and the beat of the music is easy to follow, snaking through my body and giving me the wherewithal to move carelessly.

I can feel my inhibitions lowering, the alcohol finally burning through my veins at a rapid pace. Though I haven’t had much to drink, it’s having an alluring affect on me. My legs feel slightly numb as I lead Rory away from the center of the room now, pushing our way through the crowd and towards the back where we find they’ve set up a bar. I don’t question why they didn’t just have this party in the hotel bar, assuming it’s because of the large scale capacity room needed for this sort of event. There are a lot of people, after all. I would think it overwhelming if it weren’t for the warmth of the alcohol coursing through me.

I reach towards something else, but Rory’s hand moves mine away. “Hey now, let’s take it easy. Don’t want to shock your system now.” I roll my eyes and grab the glass anyways, quickly downing it’s contents before he has a chance to take it away. The ambience in the room begins sounding like white noise roaring in my ears, and I have to place both my hands on the table in front of me to hold my balance for a moment. I feel Rory’s hand on my back to steady me, but I wave him off. 

“I’m fine,” I say, standing up straight. “I’m fine.” I turn around to face him, using the leverage of the table to push myself away. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

I move past him and through the sea of people. I somehow manage to push my way out of the ballroom easy enough, ignoring the obvious stares that I know I’m getting. I round a corner and walk straight into the bathroom, placing both my hands flat on the countertop and inhaling a deep breath of air. Looking into the mirror, I barely recognize the person staring back at me.

My hair, which was once neatly curled, now falls more loose, less defined. There’s a fine sheen of sweat on my forehead that I blot away with a paper towel, which I also use to wipe away the remaining red lipstick from my lips. My face is completely flushed, as if I’d just seen a ghost. My eyes are dilated, the grey irises almost non-existent. My whole body is shaking; I feel sick.

I look away from myself, leaning my hip against the countertop and holding my head in my hands. I have a raging headache, and I know it’s only going to get worse once I go back in there. But I’m under a lot of pressure with Haymitch shoving publicity down my throat. How we’re supposed to keep up appearances throughout the tour. And I know that if I don’t go back out there and at least look like I’m enjoying myself, I’ll never hear the end of it.

So I push the feeling of vomit aside, straighten my top, and run my fingers through my curls before exiting the bathroom. 

Only the promise of more alcohol is going to keep my frayed nerves at bay.

I walk back into the ballroom and past the security, who don’t even ask for my identification this time. I’m not even ashamed to find myself heading straight for the bar, where I down another two shots.

“Hey,” I turn around a little too quickly, ending up with my face in someones chest. The body backs away slowly, and I’m met with strikingly blue eyes. “You should probably take it easy.” My vision is slightly hazed, but not enough to keep me from noticing that it’s Peeta Mellark who stands in front of me. He’s leaning against the bar with his arm, which barely touches my shoulder. The warmth that I can feel radiating from his body is intoxicating, and I find myself leaning slightly against him.

I frown when he takes the glass from my hand and finishes it’s contents. Though I shamelessly watch his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows hard before slamming the glass down onto the table beside me. I grit my teeth and reach for another one when his hand wraps around my wrist. “Don’t,” he says, and I look up at him questioningly. “Dance with me.”

I can’t explain what part of my brain led me to believe that this was a good idea, but through the haziness of my mind, and the heaviness of my limbs as the burning alcohol courses through my veins, I allow Peeta to lead my to the center of the dance floor.

When I feel his hands travel dangerously low on my hips, he pulls my body flush against his, my backside firmly pressed against his front. A part of my mind tells me to stop, an angry, ridiculous part of me. But my blood runs white hot as I feel his grip on me tighten, and I know I’m lost.

And somewhere between the haze of the room, and the pulsating music traveling throughout my entire body, I find myself winding my arms behind me and around his neck. My fingers have a mind of their own as they sift through the curls at the nape of his neck, slick with his sweat. The heat of our bodies being so closely pressed together sends heat down my spine, and I revel in it.

There’s no excuse for my reckless behavior, other than the alcohol which continues it’s fiery path through my blood.

As I push myself back further into him, his fingertips graze the bare skin of my hips as my shirt rides up slightly. The heat of his touch travels all throughout my body, past my skin, and shoots out through my extremities. Tingles shoot down my spine, and my whole body shakes at the feeling.

His hands grip me tighter, if even at all possible, and against the willingness of my body to move on its own, begins swaying with him rhythmically. I revel in the way his body feels pressed against my own, so on my own accord, I grind into him. It may just be my mind playing tricks on me, but I think I may hear him outwardly groan. Though I sure feel it as his chest reverberates behind me. I smile knowingly, and although he can’t see my face, I do it again. This time, he lowers his head as if he’s going to rest his forehead against my shoulder.

But I stall when I feel the heat of his lips make contact with my heated skin, just below my ear. I can feel his hot breath blow against me as he lets out a breath, and it does nothing but egg on the aching pain in my lower body. The need to feel him even closer to me is extreme, and I feel myself quickly losing control.

I’m torn between wanting to pull away, but my mind is a puddle of nothing as his warm breath plays against the sensitive bit of flesh where my neck meets my shoulder, and the way his hips are coaxing mine side to side.

But before I know it, one of his arms wraps around my stomach, spinning me around to face him. The world around me blurs and I can’t seem to find my balance in the chaos that surrounds me. But his hands are back on my hips, this time firm and solid, as to hold me in place. The nauseous sensation doesn’t quell as the spinning comes to a halt, the room becoming whole again. Though, the haziness and confusion doesn’t leave my mind.

I find myself focused on the way his eyes bore into mine, the usual bright blueness gone, replaced by thick, black pupils and the alluring sight of lust. His fingertips dig into the flesh of my hips in order to pull me closer, flush against his body. The contact of our hips meeting is an intoxicating feeling, and my head spins again at the pleasure it sends coursing through my body.

My eyes trace the lines of his lips, just catching the way his tongue darts out to wet them, already parted as an invitation. I involuntarily bite my bottom lip, worrying it between my teeth. Between my rapid beating heart, and the heaviness of breath, I find myself gripping his t-shirt between my nimble fingertips, twisting it tightly as if to anchor myself into reality. His head dips slightly, his forehead meeting mine. I take a deep breath, inhaling the distinct scene of cinnamon and dill before my eyes close on their own accord.

But it’s then, with my eyes shut tight and my mind a fogged mess, that I come to somewhat of a realization of what I’m doing. The music thrums wildly around me, pounding in and out of my ears. I’m able to make out where I am again, if only for a moment, as the haziness of my mind clears. The alcohol pumping through my veins makes my body feel like lead has replaced my blood, and I find myself gripping the body in front of me even tighter.

And that’s when my eyes shoot open, meeting thick black eyes and they stare down at me, just a few centimeters away. The sex-starved part of my brain is screaming for me to close the distance, wanting so badly to taste him. His tongue darts out once more, wetting his lips and leaving a gleaming trail for my eyes to zero in on. It would be so easy to just lift my head and capture his lips with my own. 

But I shake my head, still somewhat aware of my surroundings, reality resurfacing. His eyes are dark as he stares at me, and I know he’s ready to dive in. My head spins and I do a double take, looking around the room for a moment. The room spins around me as the packed bodies in the room move and swirl around me in a chaotic mess of limbs. When I turn back to face him, I press my hands as firmly as I can against his chest and shove myself away. My whole body feels like jello as I stand there only a few feet from him. 

I close and open my eyes a few times, trying to allow myself the time to get adjusted to my surroundings. But it does no good, my mind is racing and my heart is thrumming out of my chest. I can feel the bile rising in my throat and I try my hardest to not vomit. Peeta steps towards me momentarily, as if he’s going to reach out and grab me, but he stops himself. I shake my head once more before looking around for the exit.

When I spot it, and don’t give him a second glance before walking— stumbling towards the door. I’m barely able to make it into the lobby and into the elevator before I’m in my room, collapsing down onto the soft, downy comforter.

I rub my nose into the fabric of the blankets, wrapping them around me and letting them encase me in their silky coolness. Although my headache still rages on inside my head, the calm, quiet of my hotel room aids in the settling of my mind. But it also takes a dangerous toll and I find my mind wandering back to the party still going on ten floors below me.

I can’t fight the way his face is permanently etched into my mind, how close his face was to my own. Nor did I miss the way his lips felt pressed against the skin of my neck. I find my hand wandering up to that exact spot, my fingers idly tracing the hot flesh. It’s as if I can still feel his lips pressed firmly against my skin, and the way his breath felt as his breathing deepened.

I feel the nausea resurface the longer I think about it, a part of my mind screaming at me to stop thinking about him. And I should, I really should. I’m ashamed at my behavior tonight; I can’t believe I let myself get so far gone.

Peeta Mellark left a permanent mark on me tonight, and I hate him for it. I hate the way he left me wanting more, when I know I shouldn’t have wanted any at all. I hate the way his lips drew me in more than once, their fullness screaming at me to kiss them. And I hate the way his lips curled up into that knowing smirk when he knew he had caught me staring.

The very thought of him now sends my stomach churning, and I’m barely able to untangle myself from the sheets that entrapped me before slamming to my knees against the tile floor of the bathroom and expelling anything and everything left in my stomach.

\----------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oh boy, what a chapter! What did you guys think? Did you love it? Did you hate it? Let me know! It took me forever to write this and I’m sorry again that it took so long to update. But I just want everything to be perfect, and perfection takes time.
> 
> Have a good day, and leave a review!


	4. The Interview

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the hold up on this chapter. I’ve been in the middle of applying for Universities and getting all that stuff settled with college, along with starting a new story! It won’t be posted until Roads is finished, but it’ll be this year, possibly mid summer? Around the end of July? I haven’t quite decided yet.
> 
> I’m also so excited for this story to finally start taking off. I hope you enjoyed Everlark’s little trist last chapter, cause this is just the beginning. The trouble officially starts now.
> 
> Also this may not be edited very well, but all the mistakes are mine.

* * *

 

From the moment my mind is awake, my head pounds relentlessly against the inside of my skull. But once the loudness continues, I slowly come to the realization that someone is pounding against the door.  
  
Slowly, I push myself up from the bathroom floor, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand as I stand. My whole body feels as if all of my blood has been replaced by lead, each limb hanging heavy. The door to my room seems entirely too far away, and I stumble over my own feet as I reach the door.  
  
I open it only an inch at first, revealing Gale standing in the doorway. Opening it the rest of the way shows him standing there leaning against the door frame with his head cocked to the side. His face takes on a worried look once his eyes scan over me. "Shit, Katniss. You look like, well…shit." I don't have to energy or the patience to reciprocate an argument. I move to the side and lean against the door as Gale steps in. "What the hell happened?"  
  
I lift my hand and wave it. "Fucking drank too much, that's what." Gale shuts the door and I go to lean against the wall, grabbing my head in my hands.   
  
"Shit—“ I dart back into the bathroom, not having enough time to slam the door before I'm on my knees, violently expelling stomach acid. Gale is by my side immediately, holding back my hair and rubbing my back slowly.  
  
"Why did you drink so much? You never drink, Katniss." Gale's voice sends my head reeling, my stomach trying, but failing, to heave up anything else.   
  
"I don't know...I don't remember any—“ I'm retched forward again, though this time, it's all bile. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as my throat burns an incredulous amount. This is how I’m going to die.  
  
"Here," I turn my head, almost forgetting that Gale was in here. "Drink this." He hands me a cup of water and I drink it down greedily. The coolness soothes my throat and I couldn't be anymore grateful.  
  
"Thank you," I whisper, my voice coming out hoarse, and raspy. I manage to pull myself to sit on the side of the tub, leaning my elbows against my knees, my head in my hands. I feel Gale next to me, then, rubbing small circles around my back.   
  
"You going to be okay if I leave for a little bit?" he asks, and I can only manage a nod. "Okay, well...I'm going to meet Rory downstairs for breakfast, you clean up and meet us down when you're ready." His voice is gentle, parent like.   
  
He lets himself out, though I sit on the side of the tub a while longer as my head continues to spin.  
  
I flip the shower on and strip, standing under the pounding stream of steaming hot water. It's soothing, somewhat, allowing for me to relax as my limbs loosen. Turning around, I let the water flow over my face, washing away all of the toxins from the night before.   
  
And then my mind takes a turn, Gale's voice echoing in my mind. "What the hell happened?" He had asked. And it makes me stop, trying to rack my brain. But to my utter horror, nothing comes to my mind.   
  
Whatever happened last night is forever gone from my memory.  
  
I lean my head back against the tile, the hot water droplets cascading down my face and body as I slide to the floor. My head falls to my knees as I pull them up to my chest, which heaves with each breath as I try and imagine last night. But to my avail, the only thing that comes to mind is dancing with Rory for a little bit.   
  
Anything after that is gone.  
  
Fuck.  
  
Then why do I feels so terrible? Like I did something horrible? It must just be the hangover, I tell myself.  
  
Shake it off, Katniss. Shake it off.  
  
I quickly wash myself, lingering a little bit longer than I should have before slamming off the water and stepping out into the steam filled room. I bend and sway on my feet, lurching forwards to grab the counter top. And when I lift my head and wipe off some of the fog from the mirror with the back of my hand, I see that my eyes are blood shot, and my face is blotchy, as if someone took a red marker to my cheeks.  
  
My stomach growls, then, ugly, loud grows signaling that I need to eat something. Though, food is the last thing on my mind at this point, as I feel as if anything I swallow will just come right back up. But I push that thought aside as exit the bathroom and shuffle through my hotel room, digging through one of my bags beside the bed for something to wear down. I rifle through until I find a pair of loose fitting grey sweatpants, and one of our band t-shirts that shows “THE NEW ROMANTICS” across the front in large letters.  
  
Throwing my hair into a messy bun on the top of my head, I grab my room key and cellphone, making my way down the hall and into the elevator. It pings when I reach the lobby, and I step out, a gust of breeze hitting me as soon as I enter the breakfast area. My eyes land on Rory immediately, though I momentarily scan the room to find Gale sitting across the room talking quietly with the girl from the night before. Madge, I think.  
  
Rory waves me over and I slide into the seat next to him, rolling my eyes as he nudges me with his elbow. “Gale told me you had a rough morning,” he mumbles between bites of doughnut.   
  
I sigh. “Don’t even bring it up. You have no idea.”  
  
“Oh, I think I have some idea,” he mutters, laughing quietly under his breath.   
  
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest defensively.  
  
“Well for starters… you look like hell. Your eyes are all bloody red, and you look like you haven’t slept in days.” I bite my lip, turning my head away. Out of the corner of my eye I notice movement, and completely turn my head, noticing Peeta and his brother walking to sit down at a table a few tables over. No Finnick. “…are you even listening to me?”  
  
“What?” I ask, turning my head back towards him. “Sorry.”  
  
“No, no, it’s not like I’m ever listened to anyways,” he says, his tone sarcastically dry. “I was just talking about last night. You know, I’ve never seen you drink that much. If at all, ever.”  
  
I shake my head, sighing heavily. “I know… I don’t know why I did last night. I just got so…tired of being so busy and wanted to take the chance to have a little fun, I guess.”  
  
“I think you had more than a little fun,” Rory mutters, lifting his glass of water to his lips, his eyebrows slightly raised.  
  
“Wha— Why would you say that? Last night was a wreck.” Rory’s eyes light up with amusement, and I watch as the corners of his lips lift slightly.   
  
“You don’t remember anything from last night, do you?” he asks, and I shake my head defeatedly. “Huh.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Oh, nothing. Just uh… nothing.” There’s that knowing smile again. The one that means I’m clearly missing something. And if it weren’t for the nagging hunger pains in the pit of my stomach, I would bug him about it. But I’m far too concerned with the way that the biscuits and gravy are calling my name.  
  
“Whatever then, I guess.” I push myself from my seat and head towards the breakfast table, all the while fully aware of the eyes boring into the back of my head. Just to check, I turn slightly, catching a glint of blonde curls heading my way.   
  
Shit. What now?  
  
“Uh, hey,” Peeta mutters as he approaches. I look at him quizzically as his hand goes to rest on the back of his neck.  
  
“What do you want?” I ask, turning away from him and piling biscuits onto my plate, slathering them in gravy. I can feel him staring at me, so I turn back, his eyebrows raised. “What?”  
  
“I can’t say hey to you?” he asks, now crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
“Why would you say hey to me? Did our argument yesterday not register in your brain?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, his face flushes slightly, which causes me to raise my eyebrows again. Though he doesn’t respond, just stands there. He swallows hard, then, his gaze turning hard as his body grows rigid.  
  
“Never mind. Forget it.” He huffs, blowing out a few stray curls from his forehead before heavily running his hands through them.  
  
“Obviously it’s something,” I mutter, growing impatient. “Just spit it out.”  
  
“You don’t remember. It’s pointless. Just forget I even came over to you.”  
  
“Don’t remember what?” I narrow my eyes at him, setting my plate down and crossing my arms against my ribcage. He just shakes his head, his face unreadable again. “What?”  
  
“Nothing— doesn’t matter.” He turns to walk away, and although his face gives off the appearance of being slightly pissed off, the left corner of his mouth still lifts into a smirk as he turns to walk away.  
  
But I didn’t miss the disappointment in his eyes.  
  
Though I tell myself I’m dreaming, still hazy and slightly fogged up from the night before. A dull ache in my left temple starts making itself known, and I groan inwardly. Great.  
  
Deciding then, to pass up the heavy food, I resort to grabbing an apple and a banana instead before making my way back to the table with Rory. Gale’s there, now, too. Madge must have left.  
  
“Hey Catnip,” Gale mutters softly. “Feeling any better?”  
  
“Ugh,” is the only response I’m capable of.  
  
Rory elbows Gale, suddenly, and I raise my eyebrows in curiosity. They’re both staring at the television screen on the far side of the wall across from them. I turn around, my eyes catching a brief second of “THE CAESAR FLICKERMAN SHOW” flash across the screen before it fades to black. Caesar appears on the screen, then, his too white teeth flashing a daunting smile to the camera, his vivid platinum hair sparking everyones attention.  
  
“Welcome, welcome! I hope you’re all having a wonderful afternoon! And if not, you have to stay tuned for this. For our next segment, we are going to be reviewing the events of last night’s opening night in Ventura, following one of the most popular bands this year— you guessed it— The New Romantics, as they kicked off their final nights in California.”  
  
My eyes meet Gale’s who’s already staring back at me in wonder. Then, suddenly, my eyes flick to Rory’s, who’s face has seemingly paled in comparison to a few seconds ago. Tuning back to the screen, I feel the urge to look the opposite direction, where Peeta and his brother are sitting a few tables over. Peeta’s eyes are already locked on mine, a slight panic flashing across his features. His mouth opens to mouth something to me, but not before my attention gets diverted back to the screen.  
  
“As you may or may not have known, The company sponsoring the many bands throughout this tour decided to throw an after party for the bands last night in return for all their hard work so far this tour. It also acted as a bit of a going away party, for this was one of the last nights of the tour through California—“ I lean back in my chair, huffing out a breath of air, wanting to tune out the show, but not being able to at the same time.  
  
“—Now, last night sparked up a very interesting controversy that many people may be interested in.” Suddenly, right there across the entire screen, is a picture of myself standing mere inches away from Peeta Mellark. My heart leaps to my throat as I notice the way our eyes are locked, the way our faces are hovering so close together. The crowd had seemed to form around us, though nobody had been paying much attention. And although the lights were dim in the ballroom, the strobe lights streaming from the ceiling gave enough light for whoever possessed the camera to snap a picture.  
  
Anger courses through me, first. But then, humility. How could this happen? How could I…  
  
Turning in my chair, I whip my head around, searching for Peeta. Our eyes lock instantly, his frantic, darting towards the exit of the lobby. He’s out of his chair in seconds, and I find myself unable to stop myself from following him. I bite the inside of my cheek to the point of drawing blood as I approach him, trying my hardest not to lose it right here in the lobby of the hotel. I reach him, his eyes searching my face quickly before swallowing hard and reaching out to grab my forearm, dragging me towards the elevators.  
  
“What are you—“  
  
“Just come with me.” His tone is pleading, rough. I swallow my remark.  
  
“Where are we going?” I ask once we’re in the elevator. Peeta shoves the ‘close door’ button with his thumb, punching in the highest floor number.   
  
“To the roof—“ he says, pointing up. “—it’s the only I place I know right now that’ll be empty, and private enough for me to talk to you.”  
  
“Okay,” I mumble, leaning against the wall, running my hands anxiously through my hair. I grasp it at the roots, pulling slightly to calm my mind. The ride feels like it takes an hour, time passing more and more slowly the closer we get to the top. Just as I start feeling claustrophobic, the elevator pings, the doors sliding open.   
  
“Come on,” he says, grabbing my arm, leading me to the little stairwell leading up, pushing the door open and stepping out onto the roof. My senses are assaulted as the sun blinds me, my vision swimming with light. The sound of waves crashing can be heard in the distance, the smell of sand sifting through the air fills my nose.  
  
“Over here.” Peeta’s voice breaks through the fog in my mind, my head turning to find him walking towards the edge of the building, facing the ocean. “So, about least night.”  
  
“Yeah, about last night. What the hell happened?” I ask. He turns to face me, his hands fidgeting slightly.  
  
“Look, before you get angry with me, please let me explain.” His hand goes to sift through his curls, which shine golden against the risen sun. He swallows hard, and I shake my head slowly, crossing my arms against my chest, waiting for him to continue.  
  
“I uh, well… I—“  
  
“Would you just spit it out?” I ask, growing antsy.   
  
“Sorry, I’m uh, I’m just trying to figure out the best way to say this without making it sound…terrible on my part. So I guess I’ll start with I’m sorry.” I raise my eyebrows in question, shifting on my feet.   
  
“Sorry for…what, exactly?”  
  
“Well, we danced together, if you haven’t gathered that much already. But uh, you weren’t exactly…how do I say it…sober, I guess?”  
  
“I know that. Thanks to you, I woke up puking my guts out this morning.” His eyes widen.  
  
“Hey, don’t go blaming this on me. You were the one drinking far before I even made my way over to you. If anything, you should be thanking me. Because if it wasn’t for me, you would have been so much more shit faced than you were.” His arms cross over his chest as he leans back against the side wall. The breeze picks up, then, just as he inhales, pushing hair hair back frustratingly as it tumbles over his forehead.  
  
“I’m not—“ I lower my voice as he narrows his eyes. “I’m not blaming you, alright? I’m just…looking for an excuse.”  
  
He gives me a look. “An excuse, huh?” he asks, cocking his head. “Why don’t you just take some responsibility and admit the fact that you got drunk, and openly danced with me in front of everyone.”  
  
“Because it’s easier just to blame you!” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. My eyes go wide as I clamp my hand over my mouth.  
  
“So that’s it,” he starts, shoving his hands into his pockets, though he seems far more calm than myself. “You’re just looking for excuses to hate me, aren’t you. And you think that if you blame me for you getting drunk— which makes no sense, by the way— then that allows you to give yourself an excuse to hate me even more than you already do.” He huffs a final breath, rolling his eyes when I give no response.  
  
“Are you really going to keep this up, Katniss?” I wince at the sound of my name coming from his lips. “Are you really going to keep doing this— hating me?” His voice is filled with something like desperation, and I peel my eyes away from the ground, finally, meeting his, blue, and piercing.  
  
“I don’t need excuses to hate you,” I retort. “I just do.”  
  
“But, why?” he asks, taking on a more serious tone.  “Can you give me a specific reason as to why you insist on hating me so much?”  
  
I look away, avoiding his stare. There’s an uncomfortable gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I can feel his gaze burning a hold in me.  
  
“Are you just going to ignore me? Am I really that—“  
  
“Look,” I exhale, letting my hands fall to my sides. I think for a few moments about whether or not I want to divulge anything to him before finally speaking. “It’s just that— this tour means everything to me, alright?” I admit, swallowing hard, avoiding his eyes. “This tour…we’ve never had an opprotunity like this, and we’ve worked so hard our entire lives to get to where we are today. And it seems like all you had to do was show up, and you’ve been given this once in a lifetime opportunity without even trying.”   
  
“Katniss, if you think we didn’t try just as hard as you all did to get here, then you’ve got another thing coming.” He looks away, then, kicking his shoe against the concrete. “Because— you have no idea.”  
  
“I have no idea? _No idea?_ ” I bite, my fists clenching together so hard there will be marks from my nails digging into my palms. “You really think that I have no idea how hard it was for me to get here today? I have sacrificed _so much_ of my life to be able to do this.”   
  
“That’s not what I—“  
  
“I left my sister,” I blurt out, finally meeting his gaze. “I left my sister, and… this is the only thing that is guaranteeing me that she is going to have a future. A good, stable future.” His eyes linger on mine for a few seconds, as if he’s reading me, searching me, looking for something.   
  
“And I just… I need this, okay?” I’m the first one to look away.  
  
“Hey,” he starts, his voice more gentle than I’ve ever heard it. “I’m sorry, you… you don’t have to talk about it. I get it. I won’t tell you that you have no idea. I didn’t mean to upset you.”  
  
I should be mad, furious even. The fact that he even insinuated that I may have no idea what it’s like. What this is worth to me. But I’m not, for the first time, so unbelievably angry with him. I’m not anything but confused. Confused as to why he’s being so nice, gentle even. That thought alone causes hot, bitter anger to course through me. Though the more I think about it, the more I can begin to feel that bitterness inside of me swell into something more of aggravation.  
  
“I really am sorry, by the way,” he says quietly. “About last night.”  
  
“Let’s just forget about it.”  
  
“What— why?” he asks.  
  
“Well I mean, it’s not as if it meant anything. Come on. I don’t even remember any of it. It would be better for the both of us if we just forgot anything ever happened.” He swallows hard, his eyes never leaving mine. Though his stare becomes uncomfortable, and slightly irritating, that I have to peel my eyes from his own.   
  
“What?” I ask finally, after getting no response.   
  
“Nothing. Just forget it.”  
  
I roll my eyes. “Seriously? You bring me up here to talk, and then you tell me to just forget it? I don’t understand you.”  
  
“We talked, alright? I apologized for the way I acted, or rather, led you to act. And you told me to forget that anything ever happened. So that’s what I’m doing. I’m forgetting.” There it is. Going back inside his reserved, anger driven bubble.  
  
Two can play at that game.  
  
“Good. Then we’re done here.” I turn to stalk away, anger slowly beginning to bubble up inside of me the longer I stand in his presence.   
  
And he doesn’t try and stop me from leaving.  
  


* * *

  
  
By the time I get back to my room, there’s a note on my door telling me to meet in conference room B for a meeting. I roll my eyes, throwing my head back before turning around and getting back into the same god damn elevator.   
  
My thoughts roam to Peeta and I’s conversation, to how sincere he seemed in his apology. It must have been fake, though. It had to have been. Peeta Mellark would never give anyone a real apology. He’s fake in his actions, just as everyone else.  
  
Once I manage to rid him from my mind, I get off and stalk down through the lobby, pushing my way into the conference room where I’m met with Gale, Rory, and a very disappointed looking Haymitch.  
  
Great.  
  
“Look who decided to show up,” he mutters, gesturing for me to sit down on the couch between Gale and Rory. “Sit.”  
  
“Apparently, we’re in trouble,” Rory whispers.  
  
“Your god damn right you’re in trouble,” Haymitch says, his voice getting seemingly louder. “You’re all pretty reckless, considering how long you’ve all been doing this.”  
  
Gale huffs beside me. “Come on, Haymitch. Would you just get to the point. There’s no point in beating around the bush.”  
  
“First of all,” Haymitch takes a deep breath, first, before pointing towards me. “What the hell was that? Last night?”  
  
“I—“  
  
“It’s a rhetorical question, sweetheart.” I sit further back into the couch, glaring straight into his eyes with my arms crossed against my chest. “Are you out of your god damn mind? How irresponsible do you have to be to actually go and get purposefully drunk in the middle of an event like this?”  
  
“What was the point of having alchohol, then? For show? Fuck, Haymitch, I wasn’t the only one drinking.” I’m trying so hard to stay cool, but the longer he stares holes into me, the longer I want to scream.  
  
“She’s got a point, you know,” Rory chimes.   
  
“Did I ask you?” I turn my head and look away, watching Gale’s knee bounce against mine as Haymitch continues to drone on. “Besides, shouldn’t have you been keeping her from doing something so reckless? Do any of you have brains?”  
  
“Would you please stop making this a big fucking deal?” I look up to see Gale’s jaw set tight. “She had a little to drink, and danced with Mellark. I don’t see what the big deal is.”  
  
“What’s the big deal?” Haymitch asks, throwing his hands into the air. “The big deal is that I’ve had every single person that works for god damn Caesar Flickerman calling me asking for you all to do an interview. Katniss, specifically.” He pauses, then, taking a deep breath. “There are reporters swarming the entrance of the hotel, begging for her to come out an make a statement.”  
  
“I’m not telling them anything,” I mutter.   
  
“You’re god damn right, you’re not. You’re not saying a word, and neither are the two of you.” He points to Gale and Rory. “Besides, I already scheduled for an interview. For the three of you.”  
  
“What?” I ask. “When?”  
  
“Tonight.”  
  
“Tonight? Are you serious? Haymitch, I don’t want—“  
  
‘It doesn’t really matter what you want at this point. But if you want everyone to leave you alone about this whole thing, you’re going to have to suck it up, and do the interview. Okay?”  
  
I feel like screaming, or punching a wall, but I resort to biting the inside of my cheek instead. “Fine. But I’m not giving them shit.”  
  
“Just go along with everything, and maybe they’ll leave you alone. I understand that it may not be a huge deal to you, or to any of us, but in the eyes of the media?” He rolls his eyes. “This is the most important things going on in their pathetic lives right now, so just do the interview, and play nice.”  
  
I roll my eyes. “Fine.”  
  


* * *

  
  
“Katniss, you just about ready?” I turn around, looking past Portia, my stylist, to find Gale peeking his head into my dressing room. His hair is neatly combed back, his suit hugging tight to his body as he pushes the rest of his way into my room. “I’m not rushing, I’m just asking because I think they’re getting ready to—“ he cuts himself off, directing his attention to the phone in his hands. “That would be Haymitch. Says he’ll be here in five.”  
  
I scoff. Of course he’s coming to check up on me. More or less, to make sure I don’t say anything I’m not supposed to. He’s had to do that for the entirety of my career. Makes me feel more and more like a puppet every day.  
  
“Relax, Catnip,” Gale murmurs, moving to stand behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “You’ve done hundreds of these things. Interviews like this should be cake by now.”  
  
“Yeah, but now it feels different. Like I’ve done something negative in the eyes of the media, and all they’re going to do is try and bring me down tonight.”  
  
“Then don’t let them,” he demands. “It’s not a big deal, Katniss. So what, you had a bit to drink and danced with the bloke. So? Doesn’t make you any less of a person.” I don’t say anything, taking a deep breathe and staring at our reflections in the mirror.   
  
“If it makes you feel any better, if they do or say anything that’s offensive, I’ll kick their ass.”  
  
I grimace. “So sweet of you.”  
  
A knock at the door bring our attention to our left, watching as Haymitch shuffles through the for with a stack of papers in his hands.   
  
“Alright you guys, so, I have your mic’s here.” He hands the both of us our mic’s, and I attach mine to the collar of my dress. I blanch at the color chosen for me again, pink. “And here are your contracts, again, so as to make sure you don’t say anything stupid, or that you’re not supposed to.”  
  
“Jesus, Haymitch. Don’t you think we have enough brains to know what to and what not to say? You have to give us a whole bloody novel?” Gale says, sifting through the papers.  
  
“It’s just precaution, alright? Just— at least pretend you read through it, okay?”  
  
“Fine,” he mumbles. Then, Haymitch turns towards me, a sour look crossing his face as he pouts his lips.   
  
“You,” he says, pointing at me. “I’m counting on you to be able to hold your own out there. They have shit on you, sure, but don’t let them get into your head. They’re just going to try and get a rise out of you. Ignore it.” I shake my head, surprised I’m not actually getting lectured for once. “If you need help, or you feel like you’re being pressured to answer something that you’re not comfortable with, just look at me, and I’ll cut them off.”  
  
I nod mindlessly, looking down at the stack of papers in my lap. His hand goes to my shoulder, then, rubbing softly before our eyes meet.   
  
“Go get ‘em, sweetheart.”   
  
This may be the first time I’ve ever really seen Haymitch smile, and I can’t help but smiling back.   
  
“Now, I’m gonna go get Rory all set up.” He looks to Gale, then. “Meet us back stage in five minutes, alright?”  
  
We both nod.  
  


* * *

  
  
As I’m rounding the corner to the back of the stage, I get pulled behind one of the curtains in the back.   
  
“What the—“  
  
“Shhh, they’ll hear you.” His voice is quiet, thick, and warm against the back of my neck. I turn in his arms, pushing him away from me.   
  
“What the hell is your problem? Ever hear abut boundaries?”  
  
Peeta puts his hands up in defense, his eyes wide. “Im sorry. I just wanted to talk to you before all of this goes to hell.”  
  
I look him up and down, cautiously, eyeing him through the dimly lit back stage. Only a couple people pass us before I decide to pull him off to the side, out of sight of the passersby. I cross my arms tightly against me, squinting at him through the dark.   
  
“What do you want?”  
  
“I just wanted to talk to you about what they’re more than likely going to ask us about as soon as we sit down.” I swallow hard, looking at the floor.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Yeah, oh. What do you want me to say? You obviously don’t want me saying anything about it, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. They have pictures, and so it’s not like we can deny it even happening.”  
  
My mind restlessly racks itself for possible solutions, lies that would sound believable. But I omen empty handed, feeling completely, and utterly defenseless at this point. But I don’t let it show as I look up to meet Peeta’s hard eyes.  
  
“Just—“  
  
“Katniss?” I’m interrupted but the sound of Gale’s voice coming around the corner. I quickly peel myself away from the wall with Peeta, and dart out into the hallway, turning my head back and forth in search of him. “There you are.”  
  
I turn around just as Gale approaches me. “Oh, hey.”  
  
“You disappeared, Rory and i have been looking all over for you.” I act surprised. “We’re on in two, so we have to go to the stage now.”  
  
“Okay,” I whisper, allowing him to lead me back to the back of the stage. Peeta seems to have disappeared, but when I turn around I see him standing over with his brother, and Finnick, staring at me through the corners of his eyes.  
  
“You all ready?” one of the crew members asks, walking us to the edge of the curtains. “Caesar, you’re on.”  
  
The lights in front of us are blinding as they flash across the stage where Caesar is sitting, two couches sit opposite of each other on either sides of him. He shines his bright smile to the crowd before standing from his seat, laughing heartily before speaking.  
  
“Welcome, welcome everybody! I hope you are all ready, because tonight, we welcome two of the biggest band names in history! That’s right, you guessed it,” he pauses briefly, gesturing to the side where we are all standing. i watch one of the crew members with a giant ear piece shuffle Peeta and his band to the edge, giving them the go head to walk out.   
  
“Please help me welcome… Peeta Mellark, Rye Mellark, and Finnick Odair of _The Mus_ e!” The three of them walk out together, the crowd roaring with applause. I roll my eyes and scoff, Rory nudging me in the side as he rolls his eyes as well.  
  
“And finally, you know her as the girl who has set fire to the stage this year, Katniss Everdeen, along with her members Gale and Rory Hawthorne!” I take a deep breath before being pushed out onto the stage first. The lights are blinding as I make my way to the couches. I’m barely able to register Caesar announcing us as “ _The New Romantics_!” before sitting down on the couch between both Rory and Gale.  
  
It takes Caesar longer than expected to calm down the crowd. But once he has, he takes his seat between both couches, looking between us all carefully.   
  
“So…what a night.” I swallow hard, trying to anticipate his next move. “And last night as well.” He turns to Peeta, then, slapping him on the knee.  
  
“So Peeta, tell me. How have you been enjoying your tour so far?” Peeta laughs gently, sitting back and crossing one of his knees over the other.  
  
“Well, Caesar, I’ve been having a lot of fun, actually. I mean, what more could i ask for? I get to tour with my band for the entire summer, just having fun and doing what I love. I feel absolutely blessed.”  
  
I try and hold back my laugh by biting my tongue. He’s definitely put up his goody two shoes front for everyone. The way he acts when he wants everyone to just absolutely fall in love with him.  
  
“Plus, I get to do all of this with my brother and my best friend. How much better could it get?” Peeta nudges his brother in the side as they both share a knowing laugh.   
  
“You’re an idiot,” Rye proclaims, locking Peeta into a headlock.   
  
“You’re both idiots,” Finnick chimes, laughing, all the while rolling his eyes. The crowd laughs along with the three of them, clapping at their jovial behavior. Neither Gale, Rory or I are amused.  
  
“Now now, boys, let’s get serious for a moment,” Caesar piques. They settle down, then. “Now, I know we all know why we are here tonight, I’m sure.” Peeta nods his head. I don’t acknlowledge anything. “I just wanted to be the first to let you know that I was very surprised to get a certain picture this morning.”  
  
The picture of Peeta and I with our faces inches apart hovers on a big screen behind us. The crows collectively gasps as another one pops up of us tightly pressed together, my back to his front, and his lips on my neck. I have to actually look away, because, I didn’t know this even existed. And they knew that. They knew exactly what they were doing by having us here tonight. By having me here.   
  
Shame courses through me as I feel everyone’s eyes suddenly on me. But soon, that shame turns to anger as I look back up, peering through half lidded eyes as at Peeta, who’s staring back at me with panic stricken eyes.   
  
“Now, Katniss, would you be able to explain what’s going on here?” Caesar asks, and though his pice is gentle, I see red. I look to the crowd for Haymitch, but I don’t find him. My only option is to give them something, anything, that they can work with.   
  
“I— I’m not— I don’t actually remember that, if I’m being honest, Caesar. I don’t have any recollection of that happening, I’m sorry.”  
  
I dare a glance at Peeta, but he isn’t looking a me anymore, but at the ground.   
  
“If you wouldn’t mind me asking, Katniss, would you mind telling me what you can remember?”  
  
I feel Gale huff beside me, shifting slightly. He whispers, “You don’t have to tell the anything.” I shake my head subtly, though try and reason with myself, thinking that maybe I can steer the conversation away from the main topic.  
  
“Well, I remember arriving, and talking with a few of the other bands. You know how it goes, networking and such. And it was such a lovely event. I really enjoyed getting to know everyone on a more personal level.”  
  
Caesar shakes his head. “Yes, but do you not remember anything that happened between you and Peeta Mellark?”  
  
“Can I take this?” We all look to Peeta, who is now sitting up a little straighter, his jaw set tight.   
  
“Yes, you certainly can,” Caesar says. “Go on.”  
  
“Well, Caesar, if you must know, and if you can really believe it, nothing really transpired between Katniss and I last night. I know what you’ve seen, but honestly, we were just having a little fun. There is nothing more to it than that.”  
  
Caesar nods. “But, you two looked awfully close,” he presses. “Are you sure we can’t expect to see any kind of romance blossoming from this?”   
  
Peeta laughs, though keeps his composure the entire time. Me, on the other hand, feel like bursting into flames.  
  
“Oh, Caesar, if it were only that simple. But, no, you won’t be seeing anything from us. I promise. We’re  just friends.” There’s an underlying bitterness to his last statement that I’m sure I am the only one to have caught.  
  
“Well, that is certainly a shame, Peeta.” Caesar hangs his head for a moment before lifting it again. “But I’m afraid that’s all the time we have. So until next time, have a good night.”  
  
The “ **THE CASEAR FLICKERMAN SHOW** ” logo flashes on the screen behind us as he stands, them waving to the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you enjoyed tonights show. Stay tuned next week for when we have Echo on with us.”  
  
The lights fade and we’re all given the “ok”, meaning that the show is over and that we are good to leave. I dart out as quick;y as possible, looking for the closest exit that I can find. I spot an emergency exit to my right, and rush out the door, only stopping once i’ve made it outside, leaning against the brick exterior.  
  
My mind is a whirlwind of chaos as I try and sort everything out. But the only thing that registers is anger. I’m not even one hundred percent sure why I feel so angry. Only that I am, and that I’m having a really hard time trying not to scream.   
  
That was so humiliating. Not only the fact that a picture of myself provocatively dancing with Peeta Mellark was shows across the world, but that he seemed completely unfazed by the entire situation. Shouldn’t he be just as angry? Shouldn’t he—  
  
“Ahem.”  
  
I whip my head around to find the man himself walking towards me.  
  
“What do you want now?” I ask, biting the inside of my cheek. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”  
  
His eyebrows crease together as if he’s deeply in thought. “I just thought that maybe we should talk. You know, about back there.”  
  
“What else is there to talk about, Peeta?” I throw my hands to my sides. “We’ve talked enough for one day.”  
  
“I think we need to talk about why you seem to be so upset about all of this.”  
  
“Why am I upset? Did you even see that picture? Do you not remember anything that just went on in there?”  
  
“I understand that, Katniss. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”  
  
“Okay? Why do you care? As far as I know, we’re not even friends. And what you said out there, about us being friends?” My voice rises more than it should, but I find myself unable to hold back my anger any longer. “Come on, we’re not friends.”  
  
“We can be, if that’s what you want.” His voice takes on a gentleness that I didn’t even know he possessed. That in and of itself makes my blood boil.  
  
“Why would that be what I want?”  
  
He shifts on his feet, now, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, I’m just throwing options around,” he says. “I mean, it’s better than hating each other, am I wrong? Is it not better than constantly fighting?”  
  
I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, worrying it. The white hot anger that once coursed through me now settles into more of a calm sizzle. Because he’s not wrong.   
  
“I mean, we don’t have to. At least, we could start with just talking to each other. You know, like we are now. This isn’t so hard, no?”  
  
I shake my head. “No.”  
  
“So… let’s say we start with talking, then. Nothing more, nothing less.” He holds his hand out for me to shake, but I eyes him cautiously through the dark. I don’t accept his hand, but simply shake my head.  
  
“Okay. I’ll allow it.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHOR’S NOTE: Oh my god, you guys. It has been so long since I have updated and I am so sorry. I just haven’t had the drive at all to write this story because I was stuck in a rut, and just couldn’t get out. But I eventually found my footing on this chapter, and I can officially say that it’s come out halfway decent.
> 
> Make sure to let me know what you think by leaving me a review. It let’s me know what you guys like or don’t like.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. UPDATE: IMPORTANT!!!!

Hey guys!

So, I wanted to first and foremost apologize for not updating in like...9 months? But I can explain.

I've hit a road block with this story. Not like "I don't know where to go from here" kind of thing, but a "I don't want to continue because I feel like it sucks" kind of thing.

_**I'M NOT GOING TO STOP WRITING THIS THOUGH, SO DON'T WORRY!** _

I'm just changing the tense. I've been writing in third person for months now, and re reading For The Band, I realized that it's not that it sucks, but it sucks. So I'm simply going to re-write this story into third person and then upload all the former chapters back at once, I think. It will only take me about a month or so (depending on personal issues in life and such) but I think it would be nice to have a fresh start on this story. Because lets be honest, I absolutely adore this story, and _I've had the ENTIRE THING planned out for over a years now_. _AN ENTIRE YEAR._ **I have the entire story planned from beginning to finish, and I think that re writing what I have now will help me be able to continue on.**

I hope you all don't hate me for taking so long to make this decision, but I think I chose wisely. I hope you forgive me. And trust me, when I fix all the kinks and re post, I promise you'll never go this long without an update ever again. I WILL be working a lot, though, but I promise, no more half year updates. Maybe just once every other week or so.

Thank you so much for understanding! See you!

**Oh, and let me know your thoughts on this and if there's anything you' like to know/like me to possibly change, please leave a review and let me know.**


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